


saltnhalo's tumblr ficlets: 2020

by saltnhalo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drabble Collection, M/M, collated work, details in chapter notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:33:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 22,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22534042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltnhalo/pseuds/saltnhalo
Summary: A collection of most/all of the ficlets I've posted to tumblr in 2020.Individual ficlet info in the chapter title/summary.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 86
Kudos: 186





	1. Amnesia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel finds himself without his memories, but inexplicably pulled towards a place he knows he needs to get to.

When Castiel wakes, it’s with a pounding head and memories that he can’t quite grasp, barely slipping through his fingers every time he tries to focus.

The motel room is poorly decorated but clean, totally uniform in the way that most motel rooms are. He could be _anywhere_ —and he has no idea how he got here.

But there’s something that seizes his attention, not in his head but in his heart. A feeling that hooks behind his sternum and guides him forward, telling him:

 _There’s something you’re missing_.

It would be easy to stay here. To forget whatever life that feels like it’s been locked away, and start fresh.

But while there’s lots that Castiel has forgotten, somewhere deep down, he knows himself.

He will never choose the easy path.

~

He sets out with an old map taken from the display rack of the motel, and that feeling in his heart that urges him onwards, outwards.

The bus routes are a confusing mess that he can’t quite make sense of. It would be easy to attempt to apply logic to his choice—is the place he’s trying to get to nearby? Are there any clues to suggest what it could be?

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he stands and waits, letting bus after bus arrive and depart, people flowing around him like water and he the unmoving rock.

When his bus arrives, once again, he just _knows_.

And he gets on.

~

The town he stops in is smaller. None of the buses feel right, so he starts to walk.

Rationally, he knows that he should be needing to eat, or to sleep, or to do any number of the myriad things that he sees people around him doing. But he doesn’t. He just keeps walking, keeps following that pull.

A few cars stop alongside him, on the shoulder of the road. They ask him who he is, and where he’s going, and would he like a ride?

Castiel doesn’t really know the answer to the first two, and the third never feels right. He shakes his head, and they drive away, every time. Until one car stops, and the feeling in his chest changes.

When the man asks him who he is and where he’s going, Castiel still says he doesn’t know. But this time, when he’s offered a lift, he says yes.

~

They drive west for a long time, making small talk occasionally but mostly just listening to the music that plays through the car’s stereo. The man stops in a place called Kansas City, and Castiel wishes that this was his destination, too.

But it isn’t.

And so he says thank you and farewell to the man, and then continues onwards.

Another bus, this time taking him from Kansas City to Salina, and then from Salina to Belleville. He’s close, so close he can taste it. What is it that he’s been searching for, all this time? Is it the key to unlocking his memories, his identity?

Whatever it is, he hopes it’s worth it.

From Belleville, he accepts an offer of a ride with someone going west. The feeling in his chest is growing now, filling him to bursting as he stares anxiously out the window, until—

“Stop! Stop, stop here, please.”

The lady he’s riding with gives him on odd look but pulls over, and Castiel thanks her as he clambers out of the car.

 _Lebanon_.

He’s lost track of how much time he’s spent getting here, but it feels right. It’s _not quite_ where he’s supposed to be, but he’s so close now. It can only be a matter of miles.

And so, once again, he follows that hook behind his sternum, tugging him in the direction he’s destined to go, and he walks.

~

His feet lead him to a bunker—old, looming, moderately overgrown and with not a living creature in sight.

Is this where he’s meant to be? His heart is pounding against his ribs now, but he’s still not sure. What could this building possibly hold for him that is _so_ important that he’s been led halfway across the country to find it?

It’s time to find out.

Castiel waits for a long minute after he’s knocked—until he hears the sound of a deadbolt drawing back, and the door swings open with a heavy rasp of metal.

In front of him stands a man, dressed in pajamas and an open bathrobe, hair sticking up and green eyes rimmed with red. The man’s eyes widen when he sees Castiel, his mouth falling open.

The frantic beating in Castiel’s chest, the impulsion urging him on, it’s all gone quiet.

“Cas,” the man whispers—a single, broken sound—and everything falls into place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Show some love to the original [here](https://saltnhalo.tumblr.com/post/190007252174/song-prompt-gravity-by-sara-bareilles-esp-the).


	2. Stakeout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean gives up on their stakeout. Inspired by [art](https://saltnhalo.tumblr.com/post/190232936869/cryptomoon-a-quick-destiel-sketch-they-deserve) by [cryptomoon](http://cryptomoon.tumblr.com).

“Cas.”

“ _Cas_.”

“ _Caaaaas_.”

Castiel has many millennia’s worth of patience, but not even he can pretend to ignore Dean for much longer than a minute or two—although he always gives it his best attempt. The corner of his mouth ticks up in a smile, and he turns his head just slightly. “Yes, Dean?” he asks, voice quiet.

“’M tired,” Dean huffs, although he makes sure that his voice is also pitched low. “This stakeout is a fuckin’ dead end, we’ve been here for hours and nothing has happened.”

Most of the time, Dean takes his work incredibly seriously, but sometimes there are nights like tonight where they can both feel in their bones that their work isn’t leading anywhere. Castiel is _just_ beginning to feel that way, whereas Dean, having had just a couple more years of experience than Cas, had given up on this stakeout at least a half hour ago.

Still. They’re here for a reason, and they may as well see it through, just in case. “There’s only one more hour until we said we’d call it,” Cas points out. “You can’t wait that long?”

His question earns him a dramatic sigh from Dean, who slumps against his shoulder. “Don’t complain to me when you’re tired tomorrow morning and we’ve got nothing to show for all this bullshit,” he mutters against the fabric of Castiel’s trench coat.

 _Insufferable_. Castiel barely suppresses a snort. “You’re welcome to take a nap if you’re truly tapped out on watching, Dean. I’m sure I’ll be able to handle things on my own here.”

“I dunno, Cas,” comes the muffled reply. “All this might be a little too fast-paced for just one pair of eyes.”

The most they’ve seen tonight is a single owl, on the hunt for mice. Nothing in or around the old cabin has shown a single sign of movement, despite the warm summer breeze that curls around the structure and winds through the trees to where Castiel and Dean are sitting by the Impala.

“Very funny,” Castiel says drily, and Dean laughs against his shoulder.

For a few minutes, both of them sit still and silent, until Dean says, “I think I will actually take that nap.” He’s clearly bored and has very much given up on tonight, because as soon as Castiel acquiesces, Dean drapes himself obnoxiously across Castiel in what is most likely a ploy to _annoy_ him into giving up the stakeout.

Sometimes Dean forgets that, for a very long time, Castiel was an angel. He’s spent _millennia_ watching the earth develop, and animals evolve, and humans come to be what they are today.

He may not always be able to _ignore_ Dean, but Castiel is pretty sure that he can outlast any of Dean’s attempts to annoy him into leaving early.

Soon enough, the obnoxious drape eventually settles into something more comfortable, more cozy. One of Dean’s arms ends up wrapped loosely around Castiel’s shoulders, the other hanging more and more limp as he starts to doze off. The rest of his body is a warm weight against Castiel’s chest, head tucked in beneath Castiel’s chin, and Cas is careful as he shifts both Dean and himself into a slightly more comfortable position. It’s nice to have Dean asleep against him like this—not to mention _quieter_.

And so that’s where they stay for the better part of the next hour. Castiel keeps watch over the cabin, Dean snores gently against his chest, and nothing moves. He’s loathe to wake Dean once he’s decided to give up for the night, but he doesn’t fancy trying to maneuver him into the car while keeping him asleep, so instead he fishes the keys to the Impala from Dean’s pocket before gently rousing him.

“Come on,” he murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to Dean’s temple. “Let’s get you home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Show some love to the original here.


	3. Living

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel finally lets himself be happy.

Dean is beautiful, and wild, and everything that Castiel has been warned away from his whole life.

But he is also kind, and patient, and caring. He is a best friend, a wonderful son, a loving brother.

Despite everything he has ever been told, Castiel thinks he may be in love with Dean Winchester—just a little bit. It’s not as though he has anything to base that feeling off of, any prior experience, but he suspects that’s what it is.

But when he stands by his father’s deathbed, finally free of the chains that have restricted him his whole life…

It’s so hard to shake off the words that feel like they’re imprinted into his skin. The ones that tell him he’s _wrong_ , he’s _not good enough_. That tell him he doesn’t deserve the love he has so tentatively found.

“Come with me, Cas,” Dean whispers that night, his words shaped like a prayer that Castiel desperately wants to venerate. “We can get away from all this. No one will know us. We can just be _ourselves_ , Cas.”

Everything in him, everything that he’s learned and inherited, it’s all telling him to say no. He should still to what’s known and safe and focus on surviving instead of really _living_ , because that’s all he’s known his whole life.

But with Dean, he could _live_.

And that must be why, his feelings finally cracking free from the iron encasing his chest, he gives Dean a tiny, quiet:

“ _Okay_.”

It’s not dramatic. It’s no heartfelt confession or enthusiastic agreement, but it’s all he can give right now.

Because he’s in love with Dean Winchester, and Dean Winchester is in love with him. And so he understands.

~

The day that they leave, there’s no fanfare. There’s no one to say goodbye. It’s just them, their small bags of luggage, and Dean’s beautiful black car. They pile everything into the trunk, Castiel says a final goodbye to the place he’s called home for so long, and then—

And then they’re gone.

They roll the windows down as they turn onto the highway, and Dean’s smile is so bright and infectious that Castiel can’t help but mirror it.

He might have been late to this, to saying _yes_ to Dean and finally letting himself _feel_ …

But now he’s here, and he’s never looking back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Show some love to the original [Tumblr](https://saltnhalo.tumblr.com/post/190295189864/congrats-on-the-milestone-so-well-deserved).


	4. Rifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean finds himself in an alternate but very familiar universe in his search for Cas.

They’d known, in all their planning and their weighing of pros and cons, that there was a risk. Dean just… didn’t think it was a risk that they would _actually_ have to worry about.

And yet here he is, standing at the entrance to the rift, a gun pointed at his head and a pair of very familiar hands holding that gun.

“What are you?” the man growls, and Dean cannot blame him for being wary. He would be too, if someone like him had showed up out of a glowing tear in the fabric of reality.

“I’m you,” he says simply, raising his hands to show that he is both unarmed and unafraid. “I’m from a different world. A different universe.”

The man just blinks at him. His gun doesn’t waver, and Dean can’t blame him—he wouldn’t buy that explanation if he was in his position, either. Just his luck that out of all the places the spell could’ve spat him out, it just fuckin’ _happened_ to be right here, right next to the only person in any universe who’s just as wary and cautious as he is.

 _Himself_.

Other-Dean gestures with his gun towards the building to Dean’s right, and it’s not hard to interpret that message. If he resists, Dean’s going to become Swiss cheese quicker than he can say ‘don’t shoot,’ so his only real option is to comply.

He’s led inside, down a series of twisting corridors, and they end up in what Dean can pretty quickly identify as some sort of rudimentary panic room. Wherever they are, other-Dean and his people have only just started rigging this place for use, but they’ve still got strong cuffs and a whole range of shit to test him with.

As other-Dean presses metal against his skin, splashes him with holy water, tries everything he knows (Dean knows this because it’s his knowledge too) to prove that Dean isn’t who he says he is, Dean just steadily holds his gaze. Finally, _finally_ , other-Dean seems to admit defeat.

“Fine,” he mutters, dragging up a chair opposite Dean’s and dropping into it. He leans forward, elbows resting on his thighs, and makes no move to take the cuffs off Dean. “You’re not anything that I can test for, which I _hope_ means you’re not bullshittin’ me. I don’t feel like becoming a monster’s shish kebab tonight. So what the hell are you here for?”

Dean twists his lips up in a quick, bitter smile. Is he always this annoying when he’s interrogating people? Other-Dean looks a couple years younger than he is right now, that’s for sure. Hopefully that explains it. “I’m looking for Cas,” Dean tells him, already impatient to cut to the quick of all this. Every second here is a second he’s wasting. “Fucking idiot got zapped somewhere, so now it’s up to me to go find him, I guess, which is why I jumped over into your universe.”

He laughs, somewhat humorlessly. “Gotta say, it was a bit of a surprise coming face to face with myself, that’s for sure.”

Other-Dean smiles, quick and cold and with not a single shred of sincerity. “I can’t imagine,” he quips. “And c’mon, you expect me to believe that? Cas is a big boy, he can look after himself. Like you’d go running off after him just because he disappeared for a bit.”

Something about that sets off alarm bells in Dean’s head, but he can’t quite put his finger on why.

“I went after him because—“ he starts, but he never gets a chance to finish.

The door to the panic room opens, and in steps Castiel.

He should be the spitting image of the Castiel back in Dean’s universe, _Dean’s_ Castiel, but… he’s not. He’s just different enough to be unsettling—no toaster iron burn on his knuckles, or little curl of hair behind his ears that he keeps simply because Dean thinks it looks cute.

Yes, he’s still _Cas_ , but he’s not the right Cas.

Even though he’d mostly expected this, Dean’s heart still sinks.

And then Castiel makes his way over, standing stiffly beside other-Dean’s chair, and Dean realizes that that’s not the only thing different about this universe.

 _Fuck_. He clenches his left hand into a fist and hides it between his knees—he knows himself, but he doesn’t know other-Dean, and both of those factors mean that it’s probably a very good idea to keep his wedding ring out of sight right now.

Because while he and Cas got over all their stupid hang-ups a long time ago in their own universe… it’s clear that these guys haven’t. Not yet, at least. 

Other-Dean looks up at Castiel, and the corners of his eyes soften, just for a second, as they share a look. Married or not, so much information passes between them in that moment. _Is this what it looks like when I do that with Cas?_ Dean finds himself wondering.

And then other-Dean turns back towards him, and the moment is broken. “Because?” he prompts, eyebrows raised.

The sentence that Dean had been halfway through when Cas had walked in comes back to him all at once, and he mentally curses himself out as he scrambles to think of a believable lie. Somehow, he feels like ‘because he’s my husband’ might not be his quickest way out of this situation.

“Because he’s my best friend,” he finishes lamely. “I’d do anything for him.”

Both other-Dean and Castiel stare at him for long time, and Dean is acutely aware of the fact that he’s being sized up, the truth of his words weighed. He does his best to hold his ground, resisting the urge to fidget in his chair beneath the two pairs of eyes. He’s not lying, just… bending the truth a little. He hopes they see that.

Finally, other-Dean says, “Give us a second.” He stands up from his chair and turns away, Castiel following him a handful of paces away. With their voices lowered, they’re out of Dean’s earshot, but he still manages to glean _plenty_ of useful information.

Like the way Cas stands too close, and how other-Dean leans into it instead finding his own space. They talk with their heads bowed close together, words soft and lips barely moving. Dean catches other-Dean’s eyes dropping to Castiel’s mouth at least twice.

 _Perhaps they’re not far off marriage after all_ , he thinks with giddy amusement, pulling nervously against his cuffs. _Or least admitting how the fuck they feel. It took me and Cas long enough, though_.

They must eventually come to some kind of agreement, because Castiel nods his head, and other-Dean gives him a quick, soft smile that Dean recognizes as one he only ever gives to Cas. They make their way back over, and this time, Castiel is the one to speak.

“Your Castiel is not in this universe,” he says, and god, it’s a relief to hear his voice again, but it’s still just _not quite right_ enough to make Dean ache for _his_ Cas. “I would have felt a rift open as I did for your entrance, but yours is the only trespass I have registered.”

“But we’ve agreed,” other-Dean cuts in, “that you’re telling the truth, and you don’t mean us any harm. So we’re letting you go.”

 _Oh, thank fuck_.

~

They don’t take the handcuffs off Dean until they’re back outside. He can’t help but watch other-Dean and Castiel as they escort him out, smiling faintly to himself as he recognizes all the little signs of two people who obviously have feelings for each other but are just too fucking idiotic to realize. _Now_ he understands how Sam had felt, all that time.

“Alright,” other-Dean says, unlocking Dean’s cuffs as Castiel works on opening a new rift with the same spellbook that Dean recognizes from his own universe. It’s weird to see him with mojo again. “Cas is gonna send you back through to your universe, and we never want to see you again. I’ve had to come face to face with myself way too fucking many times, and I’d really like for this to be the last.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” Dean says drily, flexing his wrists now that they’re finally free from the cuffs. Castiel gets the rift open, and other-Dean steps back.

Cas hadn’t been here, but now they can cross one more universe off their list, and Dean will keep looking.

He will _always_ keep looking.

Right before he’s about to step through the rift, poised right on the very edge, other-Dean speaks.

“Hey, congrats on the ring, by the way,” he says, gesturing to Dean’s left hand. There’s a slightly wistful look on his face. “She must be quite something, if she could get us to settle down.”

Quite something _. You have no fucking idea_ , Dean thinks.

“Yes,” he agrees quietly, looking over at Castiel where he holds the rift open. “He is.”

And then he steps through the rift, and disappears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Show some love to the original [here](https://saltnhalo.tumblr.com/post/190526408089/written-for-amirosebooks-for-my-2k-follower).


	5. Dysfunctional

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Artists Dean and Castiel have a complicated relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for [Sunny's](http://blueeyesandpie.tumblr.com) birthday!
> 
> Warnings for: alcohol use, smoking, brief mention of drug use.

Dean comes home with a numbness in his fingertips and an itch under his skin.

In the summer, the sun sets so late that he can walk back to their apartment from the bar just as it begins to dip. The several glasses of cheap whiskey in his system haven’t done much to curb his restlessness today, so he takes the long route home, putting one foot in front of the other and thinking about what will be waiting for him in the apartment.

On nights like this, where the _itch_ and the _voices_ claw their way up his throat, Dean finds that the only way to cope is to self-medicate. Alcohol, cigarettes…

 _Cas_.

He can hear the music blasting from their apartment as he reaches the top of the stairs and steps out onto their floor. Thank fuck that all their neighbors are artists or deadbeats, just like them, and no one gives a single fuck.

Still, the itch rises beneath Dean’s skin again.

He stalks the last few paces to the apartment door, scraping his key carelessly against the lock in an attempt to get it open. His hands shake, and not because of the alcohol winding through his bloodstream.

The music gets louder as Dean shoves the front door open and steps into his apartment, shoving the door closed behind him. The huge window of their tiny studio is uncovered today, paint-splattered makeshift curtains pushed to either side as far as they’ll go, and the setting sun throws the apartment into sharp relief.

Namely, the colossal mess of art supplies strewn across the floor, and the man and his easel standing in the very epicenter of the chaos.

Cas is fucking beautiful when he paints. Today he’s barefoot and shirtless, dressed in a dangerously low-slung pair of jeans. There’s paint smudged all over him, speckled all over the floor, blues and greys and reds that seem to blend with the tan of his skin.

The stereo sits by the door; Dean turns it down by half, which is still loud enough to drown out most of his thoughts. “You’re making such a fucking mess,” he grumbles in lieu of a hello, kicking his shoes off by the door.

There’s only so much A/C electricity they can afford at the moment, so Cas has a few of the windows open, but it’s still unbearably hot. Dean peels off his jeans and tosses them onto the back of one of their rickety, mismatched armchairs.

Cas just hums, rubbing a thumb over his jaw and leaving a black smudge of semi-dried paint in its wake. He adds a few more brushstrokes, loose-limbed and careless, then puts the paintbrush down and pulls the cigarette from between his lips. “At least I don’t throw shit around when my sculptures don’t turn out how I want them to,” he jabs back, his tone laid back but his words sharp.

The itch beneath Dean’s skin becomes a buzz.

“Only because the apartment is always already trashed,” he growls. He’s about to make his way over to the cupboard where he keeps his alcohol—numb, numb, numb—but Castiel catches his eye across the room. He’s blue and brown and tan, cigarette dangling from his fingers and a quiet challenge in his eyes.

Maybe Dean doesn’t want to be numb tonight.

“You’re a real asshole, you know that?”

Castiel just lifts the cigarette to his lips again, and takes a long drag. The smoke curls out from between his lips and dissipates into the air, but in the red-gold light of the setting sun that filters through the dusty windows, his blue eyes seem to glow.

The silence stretches out between them, tense and charged, until Cas finally says, “As if you’re one to talk.”

Dean is the first one to move. The first one to snap, the buzz under his skin becoming a roar that demands an outlet.

He’s not sure where he puts his hands first, whether it’s on Castiel’s face or waist or shoulders, just that he’s not sure whether he wants to shove or punch or _what_ he’s going to do.

And then he’s kissing Cas, kissing him with frustration and anger, biting at his lips and pulling at his hair. Cas gives back as good as he gets, digging his nails into Dean’s skin while he reaches out blindly for the nearest available surface to put his cigarette out on. Dean’s air tastes like smoke and whiskey and a little bit of weed, and he drinks it in like he’s drowning. Drinks _Cas_ in like he’s drowning.

In the push and pull of it, the storm uncoiling between them and turning the air to electricity, one of them knocks over the easel. Cas trips over it, and they both go down, Dean’s shoulder crunching through canvas and wood. “You motherfucker,” Cas hisses, biting at Dean’s jaw as he pins him down amongst the wet paint and the scattering of art supplies that had either gone down with the easel or been strewn across the floor since the beginning.

There are more words on the tip of Cas’s tongue, more knives created with the intention of slicing deep into Dean’s skin, but Dean cuts him off with a kiss and a leg hooked around his hip, hands going to the buckle of his belt.

Castiel doesn’t say much after that, but his harsh hands, bared teeth, the hand that presses over Dean’s throat, it all speaks to his barely-bridled anger. They’re always like this, fighting or fucking when they’re not creating. When Dean isn’t numb, and Cas isn’t high, when they’re just _them_ in all their fucked up glory.

But then… there are the moments of calm.

Fleeting, sure, but as Castiel finally sinks into Dean, his movements soften. He’s burnished in red-gold-bronze, all skin and paint and muscle, and his eyes are _so fucking blue_ as he looks down at Dean.

Dean reaches up and curves his fingers against Cas’s jaw—the first soft touch they’ve shared all night. Even though the itch, the buzz, is still roiling beneath his skin… Cas calms it.

Just for now.

Just for tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Show some love to the original [here](https://saltnhalo.tumblr.com/post/190579614099/for-blueeyesandpie-happy-birthday-3-dean-comes).


	6. Grammys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean shows up to the Grammys in pink. (inspired by Lil Nas X's outfit)

Before Dean had come out, he’d always dressed conservatively for red carpet events. It was always a suit, usually black or navy, some kind of plain tie, and a shirt. Boring, indistinguishable from every single other guy at the event, and not really what Dean had been interested in wearing.

Now that he’s out, though? It feels like there’s so much more freedom to wear whatever the fuck he wants.

Which is what had inspired tonight’s outfit.

When Dean Winchester steps onto the red carpet of the Grammys, every single eye turns his way. There’s a collective chorus of _holy shit_ as his pink cowboy boots hit the red carpet, and he smirks in the direction of the media is cameras begin to flash in his direction. The pink, cowboy-inspired leather had been a risk, but it’s a risk that seems to have paid off beautifully, as he flirts with the cameras and tips his Stetson to the paparazzi who catch his eye.

Tonight is going to be a damn good night, if all of it goes as well as this first appearance—and if a _certain someone_ shows up. After all, Castiel Novak is the only guy who can give Dean a run for his money in the fashion department, and he always looks forward to their friendly showdowns.

It doesn’t hurt that the guy looks hot as hell in whatever he incredible outfit he chooses to wear, either.

Yeah, Dean is definitely looking forward to tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Show some love to the original [here](https://saltnhalo.tumblr.com/post/190614171049/written-for-carry-on-my-wayward-hunter-for-my-2k)!


	7. Rooftop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel meets Dean on the school rooftop.

Cas’s favourite spot in the school is up on the roof.

It always has been, ever since he moved here. Not many people know about the old stairs, hidden away in a rarely-used corridor, that lead up to the secluded roof area, so this is where he comes to get away from the looks and the whispers and all the bullshit.

Today, he’s meant to be in history class, but instead he’s sitting with his back against the metal of one of the industrial heating vents, jacket wrapped tightly around himself and cigarette dangling from his fingers. He likes history, he really does, but the teacher doesn’t like him, or his dyed hair, or his variety of silver piercings, so.

Escaping to the roof it is.

Cas takes a drag of his cigarette, lets the acrid smoke of it curl in his throat before exhaling it out again into the cold air. _What a waste of today_.

Or so he’d thought—until the door to the roof bangs open, and suddenly Cas finds that he’s no longer alone.

The boy who stumbles out onto the roof is not someone Cas has seen before, and he turns his head with mild interest as the guy pushes the door closed behind him and leans back against it. There’s a bruise blossoming across his cheekbone, a real shiner already, but when his eyes open again and fixate on Castiel, all he can see is _green_.

“Fuck,” the boy chokes out in surprise. “Sorry, I—I didn’t know anyone was up here.”

Cas shrugs, tapping the ashes off the end of his cigarette. “Don’t worry about it,” he tells him, turning back away. The school is all greys and browns, bleak within the tight grip of winter. “As long as you’re quiet, I can share.”

The silence stretches out between them. Finally, the other boy moves, almost like he’s melting off the door as he slinks a few steps closer to Cas. “Thanks,” he says quietly. His hands are shaking as he presses his back against the brick wall a few yards from Castiel and slides down it until he’s scrunched up at the bottom. It must fuck up the too-large leather jacket that hangs off him, but the boy doesn’t seem to care.

They sit in silence, Castiel taking drags from his cigarette until it’s almost gone. He offers a new one to the boy, who seems to consider it for a long moment before eventually shaking his head no.

“How’d you get the shiner?” Cas asks once his cigarette is gone, the smoldering butt ground into the concrete beneath his shoe.

The boy reaches up to touch his face, as though he’d forgotten that the bruise was even there. “Got in a fight,” he mutters. “Some guys in my class were running their mouths about me ‘n my brother.”

Cas snorts quietly. “You win?”

The boy gives him a smile that seems like more of a practiced smirk than anything, but it’s still the first proper expression that Castiel has seen from his since he busted onto the rooftop. “Shoulda seen the other guys,” the boy says. He pulls his leather jacket closer around his body and watches Cas. “How about you? Why are you up here?”

Castiel shrugs one shoulder and gestures vaguely to his blue-black hair and ear piercings. “My history teacher doesn’t like me. She assumes I’m stupid because of how I look. I’m not stupid, but she doesn’t care enough to find that out, so I don’t care enough to go to her classes.” He twists his lips wryly. “She’s fucking terrible anyway. Easier to just teach myself.”

This time, the smile he gets is amused and much more genuine. “Is she the lady with the stick up her ass who’s always yelling at people in the corridors?”

“That’s the one.”

The boy laughs, and it’s quiet, but still lights him up from the inside in a way that threatens to steal Cas’s breath away, his green eyes shining despite the bruise. “No wonder you don’t want to go to her classes. I’m glad that I probably won’t be sticking around long enough to end up with her teaching me.”

_Not sticking around?_

“Why not?” Castiel asks without thinking. The boy frowns, clearly trying to figure out which part of his statement Cas is questioning. It’s not hard to pinpoint the moment he does, because he seems to close off just a little, withdrawing into himself.

“We just move around a lot,” he says quietly. “My dad has to work, so we don’t stay in any one place for long. Makes it hard to actually learn shit, but it’s just the way it is.”

And there, Castiel sees his opening. “I could teach you, if you want,” he says, forcing himself to look away from the boy and out over the school ground so that he doesn’t seem _quite_ so desperate. “Even if you’re not here for long. You seem cool.”

The other boy doesn’t say anything—when Cas finally looks back over at him, he finds that he’s being watched by those green eyes. How does this boy, with his black eye and his too-large leather jacket, have eyes that make it seem like he’s seen more than Cas could ever imagine?

Slowly, the corners of the boy’s lips curve up. “Okay,” he says finally. “That’d be cool. Thanks…?”

He trails off in a question, and Cas realizes that he still hasn’t given the boy his name. “Castiel,” he provides, and for once, sharing his full name doesn’t result in surprise or derision. The boy just smiles—real, genuine.

“Nice to meet you, Cas. I’m Dean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Show some love to the original [here](https://saltnhalo.tumblr.com/post/190637093319/for-song-prompts-achilles-come-down-by-gang-of)!


	8. Gay bar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Castiel meet at a bar, and Dean really needs to work on his pickup strategy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Nadia's birthday <3

Castiel has never been a particularly big fan of gay bars.

As someone who prefers peace and quiet and being able to have an actual conversation with someone he’s interested in, the too-loud music and the dancing is just a little too much. Occasionally, he’s more in the mood for it, but tonight Balthazar has dragged him out of his apartment to ‘try and get you laid, Cassie!’, when he’d much rather just stay at home with his book.

He sips at his drink, then leans his elbow against the bar and turns, trying to catch a glimpse of his friend among the crowds of people. He might be able to fake being unwell and tell Balthazar he needs to go home, but his friend is nowhere to be seen, so it looks like he’s out of luck.

When he turns back towards the bar, there’s a man sitting on the stool beside him.

He’s angled towards Castiel, forearms resting casually on the wooden countertop and a smile curving his lips. Even in the low light, his eyes look so _green_. All in all, he’s extremely handsome—but at the risk of being overly cynical, he also looks like every other handsome straight guy Castiel has ever met. Flannel over a band t-shirt, faded jeans, big boots and a clean haircut? It doesn’t exactly scream _I belong in a gay bar_.

“Hey,” the guy says with a smile, and Castiel tries to force down his negativity. _Everyone belongs here_ , he reminds himself. It doesn’t matter how they dress, or how fed up with being dragged here Castiel is.

So, in return, he forces a smile and says, “Hello.”

The guy gives him a quick look up and down, so brief that Castiel might have missed it, but he doesn’t. And it piques his interest, reconsidering his first heterosexual assessment—

Until the man follows his greeting up with: “I was hoping I could buy you a drink.” His grin widens, and he spreads his hands in front of himself. “No homo.”

And there goes both Castiel’s hopes and his respect for this guy.

“You’re really going to come into a gay bar,” he growls, anger laced so thickly through his voice that it seems to take the guy aback, “and try to _no homo_ me?” He hadn’t thought this night could get any worse, but apparently he was wrong. “What the fuck are you even doing here then?”

The guy’s eyes widen, as though he’s only _just_ realized that something has gone terribly wrong. “Hey, no, wait, I—“ he splutters out, but Castiel shoves his stool back from the bar. He’s heard enough.

“Wait, _please_.”

The man is also standing up, half-stepping so that he’s in front of Castiel and preventing him from making the escape that is all he can think about right now. For a second, Castiel considers his options—shove past him? Verbally lay into him for his fucking audacity? Hell, he even half-considers throwing a punch.

And then the man says, “You didn’t let me finish telling the joke.”

Castiel pauses. Narrows his eyes. “The joke?” he asks warily. Nothing about this seems very funny, but he’s willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, for now.

The guy eyes him, then seems to decide that it’s okay to proceed. “The joke _was_ ,” he says, the corner of his mouth tilting up hesitantly, “that it was _no homo_ , but _full bi_. Because. Well. That’s what I am.”

Castiel just stares at him. Really? _That’s_ the pickup line this fucking moron is going to go with?

“Bisexual, I mean,” the man elaborates as the silence stretches out between them, somewhat awkwardly.

“I figured,” Castiel tells him drily. He’s still trying to figure out whether he wants to leave.

The guy blows out a breath, runs his fingers through his hair, then gives Castiel and apologetic look. “Fuck, man, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for you to take it the wrong way. I really did want to buy you a drink—would that make up for it? No pressure, of course. You want me to fuck off, then off I will fuck.”

And _that_ , of all the dumb shit this guy has said in the last two minutes— _that_ makes Castiel smile. It’s small, sure, because this guy is a little bit awkward and a lot of a dumbass, but somehow he’s still charming.

“You know,” he muses, as he turns back towards the guy, “you really need to find a better pickup line. My name is Cas—you should probably know that if you’re going to buy me a drink.”

The man seems to light up, giving Castiel a wide smile. Green eyes sparkle even in the low light. “I’m Dean,” he says, as they make their way back to the vacated bar. “And as for a better pickup line… well, it worked, didn’t it?”

Castiel pauses and thinks about it for a second. He _did_ agree to having a drink, even if it had maybe been for a different reason to the one he’d originally expected…

 _Yes it did_ , he admits to himself with amusement as they sit down and order, Dean polite and charming and clearly interested, despite their rocky start. _Yes it did._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Show some love to the original [here](https://saltnhalo.tumblr.com/post/612295456171622400/happy-birthday-to-hartlessfiction-3-castiel)!


	9. Baths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having a bath is a rare indulgence for Castiel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by [this art](https://lizleeships.tumblr.com/post/612713234878939136/birdbath-of-the-lord-shrug-i) by the wonderful [lizlee](https://lizleeships.tumblr.com%22)!

Cas isn’t really one for baths.

Over the years, Dean has gotten used to finding him in the bathroom with the shower door open, his wings held out of the spray and a puddle of water slowly collecting on the floor. Getting his wings wet is always a process for Cas—so many pounds of waterlogged feathers fucks up his back, drying them off properly takes forever, and once they’re finally dry again he always complains that he looks like a fluffy, newly-fledged chick.

Even if he doesn’t share Cas’s pain, Dean does understand it, so he’s more than happy to mop up the water and gently tease his angelic husband about it. But there are some days, when the world doesn’t require anything of them, that they’re free to spend their hours relaxing and doing as they wish.

And it’s on those days that Cas will set aside some time, let himself truly unwind, and have a bath.

He’s not shy about leaving the door open, and so whenever Dean passes the bathroom, he can’t help but take a moment to stand there and just _admire_ Cas. The afternoon sun streaming through the windows, the muscles of Cas’s biceps where his arms are tucked up beneath his head, the wet sprawl of those beautiful wings. He’s relaxed and peaceful and _stunning_ , and it’s times like these that Dean really wishes the bath is big enough for him and Cas _and_ Cas’s wings, but it’s not, so he just lets himself watch.

Or, at least, he _does_ , until the corner of Cas’s lips curves up into a tiny smile, and he slits one eye open. “Were you planning to just stand there all day?” he asks, his voice a low rumble that barely carries across to Dean in the still air.

“Nah, not _all_ day. Jus’ thinkin’ about how much I’d love to be in there with you.” There’s a lazy drawl to Dean’s words that he knows Castiel loves, and they hang perfectly in the air between them on this relaxed Sunday, in this little pocket of time they’ve carved out just for them.

Cas lifts one of his wings a little, and there’s a look in his eyes that is amused and inviting but with an undercurrent of _want_ that Dean is intimately familiar with. “I can make room,” he points out, and Dean can’t help but grin.

As it turns out, the bathtub is _definitely_ not big enough for both of them, and a lot more water ends up on the floor than it does during Cas’s showers, but…

Funnily enough, neither of them can really bring themselves to care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Show some love to the original [here](https://saltnhalo.tumblr.com/post/612716637785931776/fic-prompt)!


	10. Fake not-dating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Castiel's colleagues have no idea that they're dating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for jemariel's birthday!

When they had put their applications in at Sioux Falls High School, Dean and Castiel hadn’t really expected that either one of them would get a position, let alone _both_. But they had—and now they’re Mr. Winchester, the new Physics teacher, and Mr. Novak, teaching History.

They’d decided not to ride to work together or act like they were dating, since they hadn’t been sure of the policy regarding workplace relationships. Besides, Cas gets up way too early in the morning to go to the gym for work, and Dean loves his boyfriend, but not quite enough to sacrifice the small sleep-ins he gets.

And so, considering they drive to work separately and do their best to act professional at work, their colleagues have no idea that they’re dating. Which… does not have the repercussions that Dean and Castiel had been expecting.

It starts off with small things.

Other teachers find excuses to make themselves busy if they’re talking in a group, sidling away with knowing looks and leaving Dean and Castiel to talk alone. Cas finds the other Arts teachers sending him over to the Science offices with questions or paperwork, and Dean is always the one who comes over to the Arts offices with coffee. Some of the teachers have dubbed Dean ‘Jim,’ while Cas has become ‘Pam’—a reference that Castiel didn’t understand until Dean introduces him to The Office after work one night.

The little things go on for a while, but by that point, there’s no way that Dean and Cas can come clean. Dean is pretty sure that there’s a work betting pool based on when they’re actually going to get together, and telling them that they’ve been dating for the past three years feels like they’re spoiling the fun. And so they keep pretending, turning up the flirting and the bashfulness when they feel like fucking with their colleagues, until it feels like the entire school staff is going mad with the will-they-won’t-they.

And then Castiel’s car breaks down.

It’s been pouring with rain all day, so when Cas shows up at the door to the Science offices, he looks like a drowned rat. Dean can’t remember the last time he saw his boyfriend this grumpy and miserable, but his lips can’t help twitching up at the petulant expression on Castiel’s face.

“Everything okay, Cas?” he asks as he packs up his things. At the desk next to his, he sees Charlie perk up in his peripheral vision.  
  
Cas runs a hand through his wet hair and scowls. “My car is refusing to start, and it’s raining too heavily to walk. Do you think you would be able to drive me home, please?”

Beside him, Charlie seems to be almost vibrating out of her seat with barely-bottled excitement at the possibility of her ‘ship’ becoming realized. He can feel her gaze burning into the side of his head, and only just manages to suppress his amusement.

“Sure, Cas, I can do that. You’ll have to remind me where you live again?”

Cas gives him a _look_ that means _Dean, I can’t believe you’re really doing this right now_. It’s clear that he only _just_ manages to avoid rolling his eyes. “I believe I can do that,” he snarks. “I’ll see you at your car.”

One pissed-off heel turn later, and Cas is gone from view.

Charlie can’t hold it back any longer.

“Dean! This is your chance! Drive him home and ask him out for dinner, for fuck’s sake!”

 _If only you knew, Charlie_ , Dean thinks with amusement as he finishes packing up his things. “You wouldn’t happen to have any money riding on me asking Cas out, would you?” he asks, shoving his laptop into his back and swinging it up onto his shoulder.

Charlie’s silence is damning.

“Alright,” he tells her with a laugh, watching as her cheeks turn as red as her hair. “I’ll see you next week, Charlie. You’ll have to wait and see what happens with me ‘n Cas.”

“Bye!” she calls after him, as he leaves their office. “Go win me some money, handmaiden!”

~

Dean finds Cas standing by the Impala, holding an umbrella he must have snagged from the teachers’ room and looking grumpy as ever. “My knight in shining armor,” he grumbles sarcastically as Dean joins him under the umbrella, breathless and a bit damp from his run to the car.

“Sorry, babe,” Dean says with a grin. “I couldn’t resist.”

Despite himself, the corners of Cas’s mouth curve up in a small smile. “It is pretty amusing that they all want us to date so badly. And—don’t look now, but I do believe some of them are watching us through the window.”

Dean snorts, turning a few seconds later as casually as he can to catch a glimpse of Charlie and a few other teachers watching them from the second floor. They must look a sight, both squeezed together beneath the flimsy shelter of the umbrella. “You know they’ve got a betting pool going?” he asks as he turns back to Cas. “Feel like winning Charlie some money?”

Cas grumbles something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like ‘you’re a nuisance,’ then curls his fingers into the front of Dean’s jacket, leans forward, and kisses him. Despite his grumpiness, it’s slow and sweet, and Dean smiles against Cas’s lips.

“There,” Cas mutters as they break apart. “Maybe the office will stop gossiping about us now.”

“Unlikely,” Dean quips, and Cas narrows his eyes, then tugs the umbrella back so that Dean finds himself standing in the rain, just for a second.

“Son of a _bitch_.” Dean fumbles for his keys, trying to pretend like he hadn’t _yelped_ at the feeling of cold rainwater on his neck, while Cas just chuckles.

But, grumpiness and pranks and office betting pools aside…

Dean is really fucking glad to have Cas as his boyfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Show some love to the original [here](https://saltnhalo.tumblr.com/post/613713828972265472/im-only-a-little-bit-late-but-happy-birthday)!


	11. Quarantine enemies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean does not get along well with his roommate--which doesn't body well for the fact that they have to quarantine together...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for JJ's birthday!

Dean has never quite gotten along with his roommate.

They’re just different people. Dean’s idea of fun is having friends over for games and movies and getting drunk together, whereas Cas is more the type to stay in with a book and have a quiet evening. Dean tends to leave his stuff lying around a bit more haphazardly than Castiel would like, especially considering the way he keeps his own stuff organized with near-military precision.

But the worst thing?

Castiel is a morning person, while Dean _most definitely_ is not.

Every fucking morning, Dean is woken up by the sound of the shower running. _That_ he would be okay with—but the classical music, and the clatter of him making his breakfast that echoes through the thin walls before it’s even reached eight in the morning… _that’s_ a fucking issue.

In any other situation, Dean would have requested a new roommate, a room swap, _anything_ to get himself away from someone who seems so hell-bent on destroying the sanctity of his mornings and someone so quintessentially _not_ the same as Dean. But there’s something about Cas that makes him stay. He’s hot as hell, and that certainly helps—Dean has walked in on him doing shirtless yoga enough to know—and there’s something about the friction between them that, while it pisses Dean off to no end, also drives him _crazy_.

So despite all the things about Cas that drive Dean crazy in a bad way, he stays for the things that drive him crazy in a _good_ way. As long as they each have their outlets and their escapes, they’re not at each other’s throats, and they continue to exist in the precarious balance that they’ve figured out.

Until Cas comes home from a trip to visit family, and starts coughing a few days later. Dean doesn’t think anything of it—until his mom calls to let Cas know that his father is sick, and he’s been in direct contact.

And so Cas has to quarantine.

Which means _Dean_ has to quarantine.

Which means that they’re stuck in their apartment together for two full weeks, with no way out and no one to talk to but each other.

 _Well, shit_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Show some love to the original [here](https://saltnhalo.tumblr.com/post/614181685718810624/happy-birthday-spnhell-dean-has-never-quite)!


	12. Running

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When faced with things he doesn't know how to confront, Dean runs.

Of all the ways that Dean has imagined his first kiss with Cas, all the different scenarios he’s played out in his head over the years… it wasn’t like this. If this could even be _called_ a kiss, that is—a trip, a turn at the wrong time, a clumsy pressing of lips and hands landing on muscle in an attempt to halt gravity’s pull.

When he’d pulled back, Cas’s eyes had been wide. Full of shock.

Dean had been the one to move first.

The one to run.

He doesn’t know where he’s going, just that he _is_ going, shoving past branches that scratch against his arms, getting away from the situation (the _mess_ ) as fast as he can. Because that’s what he does. That’s what he’s _always_ done.

Except, as it turns out… running doesn’t always work so well when you’re trying to run away from an _angel_.

Cas’s voice rings in Dean’s ears like a thousand discordant meat grinders, and he cries out even as he keeps running, hands pressed tightly over his ears. But no matter how hard Dean tries to block it out, it’s coming from _inside_ his head. There’s no escape.

It hurts, _fuck_ , it hurts, but even as the seconds pass and Dean keeps running blindly through the forest, the sounds like broken glass and static and screeching metal begin to resolve themselves into words.

 _Dean, please, wait_.

Over and over again—like that’s the only thing that Cas is capable of broadcasting right now. But Dean doesn’t. He _can’t_. He’s in flight mode now, running from the very thing he’s been thinking about and yearning after for so long.

But, once again… he kinda forgets until the angel part. Until suddenly there’s a body in front of him, and he’s colliding with a chest like he’s run into a brick wall, the two of them going down in a tangle of limbs and feathers. Dean pushes himself up, his heart racing in his chest—

And there’s Cas.

Lying on the ground underneath him, his wings sprawled out to each side, blue eyes wide and earnest and fixed on Dean. It’s as though time slows to a halt, just for a moment.

“You chased after me,” Dean says quietly, and his gaze slides away from Cas’s.

“You ran,” Cas points out.

They both go silent, each turning over their words in their mind, feeling the shape of them against their tongue and working up the courage to give them voice. Dean is achingly aware of the fact that he’s currently sprawled atop Cas, and that if he has the balls to do this, there will never be a better moment than right now.

In the end, they both start speaking in the exact same moment.

“Dean, I—“

“I’m in love with you.”

 _There. It’s finally out_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Show some love to the original [here](https://saltnhalo.tumblr.com/post/612702186525376512/written-for-mercurialkitty-for-my-2k-follower)!


	13. Fake dating angst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean had been selfish, when he'd asked Cas to pretend with him tonight.

The cold air rakes its way down Dean’s throat and burns his lungs, but he ignores it. Focuses on the heft of the gun in his hand instead of the ache in his chest.

 _Bang_.

The can goes whizzing off the fencepost and disappears into the grass, mortally wounded by Dean’s bullet. It makes him feel a little better, but not much. There’s too much twisting inside him right now, too much turmoil and longing and the unbearable heartache of wanting someone who doesn’t love him back.

“Dean?”

 _Fuck_.

There’s no point in pretending—his family probably heard the gunshots and sent Cas to check up on him. He only ever comes out here when he has no other way of letting out his emotions, and so Cas is definitely the one best equipped to deal with that.

He is, after all, meant to be Dean’s boyfriend.

“Is everything okay?” Cas asks as he comes closer, jacket pulled haphazardly around himself. There’s a crease between his brows, a sign of worry that Dean wants to smooth away, even though he has no right. As much as he wants him to be, Cas isn’t his.

Dean focuses on his gun to distract himself, flicking the safety on and tucking it away beneath his jacket. “Yeah, sorry.” His reply is gruffer than he intended it, and on the next words, he makes an attempt to soften it. “Just… had to step out for a sec. It was getting a bit much, y’know?”

Castiel finally reaches him, leaning up against the fence railing beside Dean. He’s so close that Dean can smell him, that achingly familiar Cas-smell that he swears is lingering in his nose when he wakes up some nights. “I understand,” Cas says solemnly. Together, they look out over the moonwashed paddock, and the handful of cans that Dean hasn’t yet sent reeling off into the undergrowth.

“I’m sorry if I’m not doing a good job,” Cas continues. “I just… I don’t have much experience in being a boyfriend.” His laugh is quick, quiet and mirthless. “I’m surprised you wanted me, honestly.”

_I would always want you. I would choose you over and over again, Cas._

But he can’t ever say that. The risk of losing their friendship, of losing _Cas_ … it’s too much.

So instead, Dean says, “Nah, it’s okay. You’re doing a great job, really. My family loves you—even my dad is starting to warm up to you. There’s no one else I’d rather have help me prove a point,” he says with a chuckle, and when Cas grins at him, it makes his heart feel just a little bit lighter.

“I’m glad I could be of assistance, Dean.”

They stand there for another few minutes, side by side, looking out into the darkness. Dean is achingly aware of how little space is in between them—how easy it would be to reach out and take Cas’s hand, to lean over and kiss him, to carry their relationship across the line of pretend and into _real_.

But he doesn’t. He stands there, and he thinks about how hopelessly, irrevocably in love with his best friend he is, until they hear the farmhouse door swing open and Mary call out, “Dean? Castiel? Are you coming in?”

They share a look, and when Dean sighs like the weight of the world is on his shoulders, Cas gives him a gentle nudge with his elbow.

“C’mon,” he says, and there’s no universe in which his smile couldn’t raise Dean’s spirits even just a little bit. “Only a couple more hours left, right? We’ve got this.”

He holds out his hand, and Dean stares down at it, his heart in his throat. He could’ve asked anyone to be his pretend date for tonight, but he chose Cas, and he’s beginning to think it was the biggest mistake of his life, because now…

He forces a smile and straightens his back. “Yeah, we do,” he says, with a lightness he doesn’t feel, and takes Cas’s hand.

Now he knows what it feels like to date Cas, even just for one night. And he’s never going to forget it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Show some love to the original [here](https://saltnhalo.tumblr.com/post/614270321513660416/for-blueeyesandpie-the-winner-of-my-prize-for)!


	14. Wings cuddling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is in need of cheering up, and Cas is more than happy to provide.

Whenever Dean is having a bad day, he goes to Cas.

After so many years together, Cas knows him better than almost anyone—except for Sam, but Sam always tries to make Dean talk about his feelings, so Sam is definitely out of the running.

But Cas always knows just what to do with Dean whenever he’s in a bad mood, or even just bummed out by something. Whether to talk with him about it, or distract him, or just give him the touch and the physical proximity that he needs sometimes.

And today is definitely a touch kinda day.

Dean has been feeling just generally tired and anxious all day, and now it’s dinnertime and the feeling still hasn’t disappeared, and he’s over it. He’s sick of the world, and he’s sick of being stuck in the bunker, and damn it, tonight he just wants to be fuckin’ cuddled.

Thank god Cas is always able to read him.

“Do you want to watch a movie with me after dinner?” Castiel asks quietly as Sam serves them up some casserole. His knee bumps gently into Dean’s beneath the table.

Dean takes a second to weigh up the offer. He’s not sure that he’s a hundred percent up to socialising—he _had_ honestly been considering just withdrawing to their room with some whiskey to read Vonnegut and be depressingly existential for a bit, as fucking pretentious as it sounds. But watching a movie with Cas will be light-hearted and relaxing, and totally the opposite of what he’d planned.

Maybe _that’s_ what he needs right now.

Having made up his mind, he gives Cas a quick, small smile, and nods. “Yeah,” he says, his voice soft. “I think that’d be good. Thanks, Cas.”

Castiel just smiles back, that soft, understanding smile that says, _you’re very welcome_.

And so after they’ve eaten, once Sam has said goodnight and disappeared off to the library or wherever Sam goes, Dean and Castiel tidy up the dishes together, then make their way through to the den. Cas leads, with an arm curled around Dean’s waist that’s half-guiding and half-supporting and exactly what Dean needs right now. The physical contact, the warmth and familiarity of _Cas_ …

And his wings.

Cas doesn’t bring his wings out into the material plane very often. It’s usually only for special occasions, and honestly, Dean is kinda flattered that Cas loves him enough to bring them out just to cheer him up. It always works, and when Cas sinks down into the couch with ink-dark feathers sprawled everywhere, Dean is quick to follow, He slots himself in against Castiel’s chest and tucks his head against Cas’s shoulder, humming quietly under his breath when the softness of Cas’s wings embraces him.

Somewhere in the background, Dean vaguely registers the sound of the Netflix logo, but he has no idea what Cas has put on, and he really doesn’t care. He’s here with his angel, arms and wings wrapped snugly around him, heartbeat slow and steady beneath his ear. There’s nothing that could ever make him feel better, and nowhere else in the world that he’d rather be.

“Love you, Cas,” he mutters against Castiel’s shoulder, and feels the angel smile against the top of his head.

“I love you too, Dean. Now rest. I’ll be here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Show some love to the original [here](https://saltnhalo.tumblr.com/post/615332713045655552/happy-birthday-migglangelus-whenever-dean-is)!


	15. Reverse!verse Hell rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean rescues Castiel from Hell.

Dean knew, as soon as he laid eyes on Castiel Novak, that this was the man he would go to the ends of Heaven and Earth for.

He looks so small, down in the pits of hell, but his soul shines so brightly that there’s no way any angle could possibly miss it. Dean sees it, that silver-gold that is almost blinding, and he feels something inside his own grace resonate in time with the colours of Castiel’s soul.

“Oh,” he feels himself say, even as he hurtles into Hell alongside hundreds of his brothers and sisters. It doesn’t feel like enough, but how does one put into words that feeling of realisation, of the world falling into place like it never has before?

He knows that he needs to be the one to reach Castiel, to pull him out of Hell, and so Dean angles his wings, steepens his dive, and _prays_.

The demons around Castiel are preoccupied by the onslaught of angels, so it’s easy for Dean to land a fraction before his kin and make his way to Castiel as quickly as he can. A few demons try to stop him, but they’re no match for his determination, and he clenches his jaw as he materialises his blade and makes quick work of those who dare to try and keep him from his target.

Castiel is slumped on the rack, bleeding and exhausted, but those blue eyes still watch Dean with an almost laser-like focus. “What are you?” he rasps as Dean cuts through the ropes holding him up—as though the giant, tawny wings and the faintest shadow of a halo above Dean’s head aren’t enough of a giveaway.

“I’m an angel of the Lord,” Dean tells him as he carefully takes the wounded human into his arms. “And I’m here to save your ass.”

Castiel groans as Dean moves him, but there’s the hint of a disbelieving laugh lost in it somewhere. “I didn’t think angels were supposed to curse,” he mumbles, almost deliriously.

“Then you clearly haven’t met me,” Dean says with a grin. He holds onto Castiel carefully, one arm braced against his bare shoulder, then flexes his wings. Around them, the battle rages between Heaven and Hell—several demons have taken notice of the fact that Dean has freed Castiel from the rack, which means they need to get out of here _now_.

“Hold on, if you can,” he says, and then he stretches his wings wide with a loud _snap_ and takes off.

With Castiel in his arms, his soul resonating against Dean’s grace in the purest form of ecstasy, they fly _up_. Towards earth, safety, freedom.

Towards whatever fate has in store for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Show some love to the original [here](https://saltnhalo.tumblr.com/post/619326587234549760/for-mercurialkitty-one-of-the-winners-of-my-2k)!


	16. Grace kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is hurting after a hunt.
> 
> Inspired by [this stunning art](https://lizleeships.tumblr.com/post/620771873279655937/update-theres-now-a-teeny-tiny-fic-i-wrote-to) by [Lizleeships](https://lizleeships.tumblr.com/)!

Dean aches.

He’s not sure if that had been a particularly powered-up ghoul, or if all his years of hunting are finally starting to take their toll, but as they stagger through the door of the motel, it’s all he can do to keep from crumpling into an exhausted ball.

But Cas is there. Cas is always there.

“I’ve got you,” he says quietly as he props Dean up. Gentle hands slide the duffel bag off Dean’s shoulder, dropping it to the floor. It’s all Dean can do to lean against Cas and let himself be held up, just for a moment.

“Fuck, ‘m sore,” he mutters against Cas’s shoulder, then lets out a soft sigh as Cas combs his fingers through Dean’s hair, once, twice.

“I can help with that,” Cas rumbles—Dean feels the syllables resonating through his body more than he hears them. “Will you be okay for another minute?”

Dean nods, inhaling and taking a moment to collect himself before straightening back up. His head throbs, and he can feel the burn of wounds on his shoulder, his back, his thigh. It takes all his energy to reach down and pull off his boots and his socks, gritting his teeth against the ache in his muscles.

The feeling of the carpet beneath his bare feet is a welcome distraction, but when Dean sees Cas sit down at the end of the bed, his body just can’t hold itself up any longer.

He walks the few steps to where Cas is sitting, then slowly sinks to his knees in front of him, leaning forward to fold his arms across Cas’s lap and lay down his weary head.

This is safety. This is comfort. This is _love_.

Cas doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t need to. The gentle hands he lays on Dean are enough, the way his fingers curl across Dean’s head and rest on his shoulder like a steady balm. Dean could almost sob with relief, and he can feel it, clawing its way up his throat.

And then Cas shifts, bending forward and pressing his lips to the top of Dean’s head.

Cas’s grace washes outwards from that single point, and the sob softens into a sigh as Dean feels each bruise and injury slowly begin to heal. There are still tears prickling in the corners of his eyes, and a feeling of overwhelm coiled tight in his chest, but he’s safe here. He can let himself go.

He relaxes against Cas’s lap, letting one arm fall loose as his body welcomes the touch of Cas’s grace, and the two of them stay like that for a very long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Show some love to the original [here](https://saltnhalo.tumblr.com/post/620778976232800256/dean-aches-hes-not-sure-if-that-had-been-a)!


	17. Quiet mornings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean shares a quiet morning moment with Cas.

Today is a quiet day.

They’re few and far between, but they do happen sometimes, when all the local hunts are being taken care of and no one urgently needs them for research or advice. On these quiet days, they don’t have to be hunters.

They can just be _them_.

The morning sun fills their house with soft golden light as Dean pads downstairs. He’s used to waking to an empty bed—Cas is much better at getting up early than he is—and so he always knows where to find him. Today, the smell of sizzling bacon draws him towards the kitchen, and he smiles softly to himself as he takes in the view.

Cas is standing by the stove, back turned to Dean as he looks through the kitchen window at their backyard, and the garden they planted there when they’d first moved in. The morning light haloes him in gold, and there’s something so serene and beautiful about him as he stands there, fingers wrapped around his mug.

He’s clearly lost in thought as he sips at his tea and lets the bacon cook, so Dean makes his way over on quiet feet. He must not be quite quiet enough, though, because when he slides his arms around Cas’s waist and rests his chin on Cas’s shoulder, the only reaction he gets is a gentle hum. Cas leans back into Dean’s embrace just a touch, and murmurs, “Morning, love.”

“Morning,” Dean replies quietly, turning his head to press a kiss to the curve of Castiel’s jaw. For a moment, he admires the grey that flecks Cas’s hair, gathering at the temples, then kisses Cas again, just because he can. It’s been years, and yet he still doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of doing that.

“Being all sweet to the man making you breakfast.” Cas’s musing is accompanied by the gentle uptick of his lips. “Very clever.”

“I’m offended that you think I have ulterior motives,” Dean shoots back, presses his words against Castiel’s skin. Bantering with Cas has been as easy as breathing for as long as he can remember.

Cas just chuckles, a sound that Dean can feel beneath his hands and that reverberates through his chest. “Am I wrong?”

The pause that follows Cas’s question is very long, and _very_ telling. Cas’s chuckle turns into a laugh, and Dean grins against his shoulder as he playfully defends himself. “I’m not _only_ being nice to you because you’re cooking breakfast. Although… that’s a big factor, if I’m being honest.”

“I expected nothing less, Dean.”

They both laugh, and as the sound fades into a chuckle and then back into the quiet of the morning, Dean feels himself settle. Being here, with Cas, in the gentle morning light and with the rest of the day open ahead of them, full of possibilities…

This is what he’d wished for, for all those years.

And he’s so happy to have gotten it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Show some love to the original [here](https://saltnhalo.tumblr.com/post/623722132410662912/happy-birthday-foxymoley-today-is-a-quiet-day)!


	18. Demisexual Cas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel goes to his first Pride event, and has some realisations.

Castiel has walked the earth for a good few years before he attends his first Pride event.

In reality, it isn’t an attendance so much as an obstacle keeping him and the Winchesters from getting to the skinwalker they’ve been tracking, but once their hunt is over and they’ve wiped most of the skinwalker goo off themselves, Sam says, “Wanna go back and check that out?”

They still have plenty of time to spare before they have to leave if they want to get back to the bunker before nightfall, and Castiel is still thinking about the riot of colour and sound, so he nods. Beside him, Dean looks a little less certain, but still says, “Sure,” and follows after Sam as he leads them back towards the parade.

They linger on the edge of the crowd, watching the parade of people who walk past clothed in rainbows, cheering and dancing and radiating such joy that Castiel feels himself get swept up in it. These humans, so proud of who they are, so strong in their beliefs and their identity…

It’s beautiful. Castiel wonders how he ever saw humanity as anything but.

They stay on the edge of the crowd for a while, just watching, but then the crowd shifts, and they find themselves _in_ it. Being surrounded by all the people, being _part_ of all that _joy_ … it’s overwhelming, but incredible.

By the time they peel away from the crowd and make their way back to the Impala, Castiel can still feel the residual energy of the crowd lingering within him.

“How’d you like your first Pride, Cas?” Sam asks. Somewhere along the line, he’d ended up with glitter in his hair, and after much of Dean’s grumbling and Sam’s failure to displace much of it, he’d been relegated to the backseat. Castiel has a feeling that Dean would have been more annoyed about the prospect of having glitter in his car, were he not also still feeling the after-effects of the parade.

Castiel thinks on Sam’s question for a few moments. “It was… wonderful,” he says finally.

 _Wonderful_ doesn’t seem like enough to cover it, but he also doesn’t know that there _is_ any word that can describe how he felt in that crowd. Seeing so many people so comfortable in their identities, so confident in themselves…

It makes him want to be the same.

Dean looks over at him as he drives and smiles. He’s beautiful in the glow of the setting sun, and Castile can’t help but smile back. The little sticker is still on the lapel of Dean’s jacket, a circle slightly bigger than a quarter, coloured in pink, blue and purple. He’d politely declined when the lady had offered him his choice of a whole range, but then had disappeared and reappeared a few minutes later, sporting that sticker and a blush on his cheeks.

Sam had just patted him on the shoulder with a grin.

“It was pretty cool,” Dean agrees quietly, looking back at the road. “Makes me wonder—do angels have sexualities? How does that work?”

Before he came to Earth, Castiel had had no idea about sexuality. Sex was something that humans did, something that angels didn’t understand and therefore simply added to the humans’ inferiority. In his time with the Winchesters, though, he’s come to understand that sex is much more complicated and intricate and meaningful than he’d been led to believe in Heaven.

But it’s a human thing. It’s not for angels, or even for ex-angels.

“Angels do not experience sexual attraction,” he tells Dean. But as he says it, as the words roll off his tongue…

Something about it seems not-quite-right.

Dean glances over at him one more time, and his fingers shift around the steering wheel before he nods. “Right,” he says.

They don’t talk for the rest of the drive, just listen to the music playing through the stereo, each caught up in the tangle of their own thoughts.

~

Castiel can’t get to sleep.

He keeps thinking about today—about the parade, about the parade, about his conversation with Dean, about his own identity. He knows that he’s capable of love, because he loves Sam like family, and he loves Dean like—

Well, that one he’s not entirely sure about yet.

But in all his years on Earth, he’s not sure that he’s ever felt sexual attraction.

He stares up at the ceiling, turning his thoughts over in his head, then finally rolls out of bed and makes his way over to his desk.

Castiel switches the lamp on, then opens up his laptop and rests his fingers on the keyboard.

_Hello Google. What does it mean to not feel sexual attraction?_

As it turns out, Google has a _lot_ of answers for Castiel’s question. He reads through each website that it gives him, full of definitions, anecdotes, explanations.

_Asexual: without sexual feelings or associations._

He reads the definition over and over, every time it comes up, letting it sit within him. He turns it over in his mind, trying to figure out if it’s right for him. Technically, he knows he doesn’t need to label how he feels, but he wants to try and understand himself in human terms. That’s what he is now, after all. _Human_.

But something within him doesn’t feel quite right about the definition of _asexual_.

And so he keeps reading, until halfway through one page, he finds a list of terms. And amongst those terms, there is one particular definition that sticks out for him.

 _Demisexuality is a sexual orientation characterised by only experiencing sexual attraction after making a strong emotional connection with a specific person_.

He thinks of Dean. He thinks of Dean’s smile, of Dean’s touch, of the way that Dean’s laugh makes his heart skip a beat.

He thinks of Dean, and he thinks:

_…Oh._

Because it makes sense now. Every time he’s looked at an aesthetically pleasing person, it hasn’t made a difference to him, but Dean is different.

Dean has always been different.

 _I’m demisexual_ , he thinks to himself, then gently shuts his laptop. Research and conversations and further understand can wait until tomorrow.

For now, he can sleep happy knowing that he has finally found an answer to the question in his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Show some love to the original [here](https://saltnhalo.tumblr.com/post/623868708199301120/to-my-lovely-myheartofmusic-happy-birthday-nyet)!


	19. Canon longing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean doesn't feel that he deserved to be saved.

Dean doesn’t know what he did to deserve this.

Even from the start, Cas has given Dean everything—rescued him from Hell, rebuilt him piece by piece and breathed the air back into his lungs. Granted, that was on Heaven’s orders, but even after that…

Cas has fought for them, _with_ them, so many times, even against his own kind. And even though he’s friends with Sam, and protects him as well, there’s just something _different_ about the way he is around Dean. The lack of personal space, the fact that he always comes whenever Dean needs him, the _feeling_ that Dean gets in his soul whenever he’s nearby.

He leans back against the Impala, pushes his hands into his jacket pockets, and lets his eyes close for a brief moment.

_Why me, Cas? Of all the people you could’ve latched onto, why me?_

“Dean?”

Fucking angels, always keeping an ear out for prayers.

Then again, maybe that’s just _his_ angel.

It’s only through practice and sheer willpower that Dean manages to keep from jumping out of his skin, and instead turns to face Cas where he’s standing a few feet away. The dingy motel parking lot lights still manage to illuminate the curve of his jaw and those shockingly blue eyes, and Dean feels his breath hitch involuntarily.

“You called for me,” Castiel says, when Dean doesn’t immediately speak. “Is everything okay?”

 _I wonder how much he heard_.

Dean fights to keep his thoughts quiet, just in case Cas feels like using his angelic powers to figure out what he’s thinking about. There’s some stuff he definitely wants to keep to himself, but the rest of it…

It’s stuff he’s been turning over and over in his head for a while now. Obsessing over it and always circling back to his own confusion clearly isn’t doing him any good, so maybe…

Maybe he just needs to ask.

In that moment, he makes his decision, and he doesn’t give himself time to second guess it.

“I don’t… I don’t fucking _get_ it, Cas,” he starts, running his fingers through his hair in frustration as everything he’s been feeling over the past few weeks comes bubbling up to the surface. “I don’t deserve any of this. I didn’t deserve to be saved from Hell, and I’m definitely not worth fighting Heaven over. Every time I need you, you’re always there, and I just _don’t understand why_.”

The last few words come out louder, harsher than he’d intended them to. They seem to ring out between them in the quiet of the night, and Dean swallows thickly. Already, he regrets his outburst…

And Cas is still just watching him with that same expression. Impassive. Unmoving.

The silence stretches out between them, and Dean has never been so aware of his own heartbeat, his own breath, as he is right now.

Just as he’s about to give up, as he’s about to say _psych, it was all a joke!_ —

Cas moves.

He closes the distance between them in just a few steps, until he’s right in front of Dean, and usually he’d make a joke about personal space, but this feels… Different. _Charged_.

Castiel’s eyes are locked on his, powerful storms and entire worlds held within them. There’s no way Dean can look away.

“You are my Righteous Man,” Cas says quietly, and his voice is like the rumble of thunder and the movement of mountains. “I gave everything for you, and I would do it all over again, in a heartbeat.”

The weight of those words hangs between them. There’s so much unsaid in them, and Dean has never felt so close to and yet so far from discovering exactly how Cas feels about him.

He bites his bottom lip, trying not to think about just how close Cas is standing, and how he can basically _feel_ the heat radiating off him.

Cas’s gaze flicks down to Dean’s lip, and in that moment, it feels like Dean’s heart stops. He’s holding his breath, his thoughts clamouring with the _what if?_ of this one single moment.

He sways forward, just a touch, as though pulled by a magnet, and between one heartbeat and the next—

Cas disappears.

And Dean is left alone, standing in an empty parking lot with only his thoughts and the roiling emotions in his chest to keep him company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Show some love to the original [here](https://saltnhalo.tumblr.com/post/627255106866446336/theres-no-shadow-you-wont-light-up-mountain-you)!


	20. Summer carnival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel falls in love in the summer, beneath the lights of the boardwalk.

Castiel meets him in the summer: that beautiful boy with the bright, green eyes.

It’s a few days before the Fourth of July, and everyone seems to be at the fair tonight, enjoying themselves beneath the carnival lights with sweat sticky on their skin. Castiel can still taste cotton candy on his tongue, and there’s a giddiness beneath his skin as he looks up at the Ferris wheel from where’s he’s seated.

He’s always loved the boardwalk.

“Mind if I sit?”

For a second, he doesn’t realise that the voice is talking to him, too enveloped in his own thoughts—and then it twigs, and he glances up, towards the boy who is watching him with a half-smile on his face.

“Oh, I—of course,” Castiel says, edging over a little on the wooden step where he’s sitting to make room for the handsome boy who, out of everyone in this crowd, picked out Castiel.

The boy’s smile widens, and he sits down next to Castiel. The step is barely big enough for both of them, so they’re sitting shoulder to shoulder, and Castiel can feel the heat of the boy’s skin against his bicep.

“You from around here?” the boy asks, glancing up as the rollercoaster passes overhead. It’s not in a distracted way, though—it’s observant, as though the boy sees the things that regular people wouldn’t, just because he knows how to watch.

“I am,” Castiel tells him. His whole family is from this state, born and bred. “You?”

“Nah.” The boy shrugs. His green eyes shine beneath the dancing lights. He doesn’t elaborate, and for a minute, they sit side by side, watching the comings and goings of the carnival, until—

“What’s your name?”

Castiel is used to people making fun of his name, and he braces for it now, as he says, “Castiel,” and waits for the boy’s interest to turn into ridicule.

But it doesn’t. Instead, the boy just grins that infectious grin and nudges him gently with his shoulder. “Cool name,” he says, and Castiel can tell that he means it. “I’m Dean.”

And that’s how Castiel meets Dean Winchester.

~

That summer is a whirlwind.

Castiel spends as much time as he possibly can on the boardwalk every summer, but this time it’s different, because this time, he has Dean. Before long, they’re hanging out almost every day—Castiel’s parents don’t overly care what he gets up to, and Dean’s dad will be in town with work for a while yet, so they have all the time in the world.

They finish almost every night by taking a ride on the Ferris wheel, just before the carnival is about to close. That’s when it’s at its quietest, and Dean and Castiel can just sit side by side and look down at the lights of the fair and the dark ocean beyond.

One particular night, they happen to stop at the very top of the Ferris wheel. Castiel kicks his legs idly in the air, and Dean chuckles quietly as their seat rocks. “You like to live dangerously, huh Cas?” he teases, a grin curving his lips.

Castiel has never once in his life lived dangerously, but he nods anyway, only the barest hint of a smile indicating that he’s joking. “I’ve been known to flirt with danger,” he deadpans, and Dean laughs out loud this time.

The lights are dim up here, but it only makes Dean’s eyes shine all the brighter.

Castiel has thought about kissing Dean before, but the urge has never been as strong as it is right now. Dean is watching him back, that grin faded to a smile that seems to hide so much beneath it. So much that Castiel doesn’t know.

He wets his lips, suddenly so dry, and feels his breath hitch in his chest as Dean’s gaze drops. In a single second, the air between them becomes so electric that Castiel almost doesn’t dare to breathe. Slowly, Dean lifts his hand, curving his fingers against Castiel’s jaw, and when Castiel doesn’t pull back, he leans in.

The kiss is soft, slow, Dean’s nose bumping gently against Castiel’s. It’s everything Castiel had hoped it would be and more, and he reaches up to curl his fingers into the front of Dean’s shirt and pull him in closer.

When they separate, Castiel is just is breathless as he had been before, and Dean’s grin shines brighter than the stars.

~

They spend almost every day together, and anyone who knows them knows that they’re completely inseparable—

Until they’re not.

Today feels _off_ —unseasonably cool and with a strange feeling in the air, that kind of electricity that heralds the coming of a storm. He and Dean are meeting at the carnival tonight, just like most nights, and so he focuses on that instead of the strange feeling in his chest.

At first, he thinks Dean is just late, but as he waits by the arcade games for him to show up, the hours passing one by one, the pit in his stomach grows.

Dean doesn’t show up—nor does he show up the next night, or the night after that.

Castiel still waits for him. It’s almost a week before he’s able to accept it for what it is.

Dean isn’t coming back.

And he hadn’t even said goodbye.

~

The summer fades.

Castiel leaves for college, and while he still holds his memories of Dean (and his heartache) close to his chest, it’s easy to be distracted by the newness of it all—new surroundings, new classwork, new friends. It still hurts, and he still misses the warm nights, the fair food, _Dean_ , but every day it gets a little bit easier.

The year passes, slowly but steadily, and as the weather begins to warm once more, and the end of classes is on the horizon, Castiel’s thoughts turn back to home.

To the fair.

To _Dean_.

~

Castiel drives past the water on his way home from the airport. He can’t help it, some part of him pulled towards it without conscious thought, and his heart twinges in his chest as he catches a glimpse of the boardwalk. The rides are still, the fair quiet and lifeless, but he knows that tonight it will be as bright and as bustling as it always has been.

He misses it, misses it like he misses a limb.

But that night, he stays home with his family. He talks with them, catching up on all that he’s missed while he’s been away, and he tries his best not to think about all that he’s missing on the boardwalk by the ocean.

~

It’s a full week before Castiel works up the courage to go back to the fair.

The boardwalk is just like he remembers it—full of laughter and light and the smell of fried food, and being back here…

It feels like he’s finally, _truly_ home, but it makes his chest ache with every moment he spends here. Last summer had been the best summer of his life, and it had all been because of Dean. Now it just feels as though all those memories and emotions, allowed to fade after so many months away, are being dredged up once more.

But Castiel doesn’t want to give up this place, just because of a boy who hadn’t cared enough about him to say goodbye before he disappeared. It’s _his_.

And so he walks along the boardwalk, smiling at the vendors he recognises and watching children shriek in joy on each ride, just like he had for so many years. He walks until he reaches the very end of the boardwalk, where he stands with his hands in his pockets and looks out over the ocean.

He’s learned so much this past year, and while it’s strange to be standing here as a newer, different version of himself, it also feels _right_. Hopefully one day he will be able to look back on the summer spent here with Dean, without pain, but for now…

For now, it’s nice to just _be_.

From here, Castiel can hear the sounds of the fair, the waves, the cry of a bird wheeling somewhere up above. There are footfalls against the boardwalk somewhere behind him, but he pays them no heed, focusing on the ocean and the tumult of his own mind, until—

“Cas?”

The voice is quiet, but achingly familiar, and Castiel feels his breath catch in his lungs.

When he turns, it’s as though the world is moving in slow motion, the carnival lights blurring behind the figure of the person standing with him at the very edge of the boardwalk. He doesn’t even need to see the green eyes or the hesitant, nervous half-smile to know who it is.

He would recognise Dean anywhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Show some love to the original [here](https://saltnhalo.tumblr.com/post/627844461626572800/yay-congratulations-d-for-the-song)!


	21. Hunter Cas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean meets Castiel Novak at a vampire nest in Oklahoma.
> 
> Go check out [this art](https://aceriee-art.tumblr.com/post/628263249231659008/crimson-and-clover-inspired-by-a-song-prompt) by [Aceriee](https://aceriee-art.tumblr.com), inspired by this fic!

Dean first meets Castiel Novak in a field in Oklahoma.

He’s on his way out there to deal with a nest of vampires, after sources from the local town pointed him in this direction. It should be simple enough—from what he’s gathered, there won’t be too many of them, and it’ll be a challenge on his own, but nothing he can’t handle. Hell, it might even be fun.

But when he pulls up, there’s another car already parked outside the barn.

Dean can hear the sounds of fighting before he even opens the car door.

He scrambles for his machete and leaps out of the Impala, running in the direction of the commotion. _Stupid fucking civilian_ , he thinks as he pushes himself faster. _Way to become lunch for a bunch of vampires, pissed off that their nap’s been interrupted._

There’s blood at the entrance of the barn, bright crimson that leads away into the fields. At this point, Dean isn’t holding out much hope for the poor sucker who accidentally wandered into a vampire nest, but at least he’ll be able to get the jump on the vamps while they’re feeding.

But as it turns out, that isn’t the case at all.

Dean rounds the corner of the barn and takes his first step into the field, feet sinking into the thick clover—

And then stops.

Because the owner of the car, the person who’s out here with Dean and all the vampires, isn’t some random civilian.

It’s another hunter.

He’s dark-haired and tall, probably about the same height as Dean, but what catches Dean’s eye the most about him is the way he wields his machete. It’s as though it’s an extension of his arm, flashing silver in the sunlight as it spins and slices.

There are bodies on the ground, beheaded and oozing blood into the clover, but four vampires still encircle the man. Dean considers stepping in, but as soon as the thought has properly formulated in his mind and he starts lifting his foot to move forwards and help out, the hunter’s machete slices through the air again. His biceps flex with the effort, and his teeth are bared, but the exertion works because the blade of the machete goes right through the vampire’s neck like butter.

Before it even drops to the ground, the hunter is already moving onto the next one, deftly sidestepping an attempt at a grapple and dancing out of the way.

He moves like poetry.

Dean might be in love.

He can only watch as the man keeps fighting and finishes off the last of the vampires, sweeping out its feet and sending his blade singing down towards the earth. When he stands, yanking the machete free of the vampire’s body, dark blood drips sluggishly from the tip of the blade.

The man is bleeding too, cuts across his forearm and cheek that stain his skin crimson, but he doesn’t seem to notice or care as he turns away from the carnage of his own creation.

What he _does_ notice, however, is Dean.

His eyes widen, and for a moment, he tenses, clearly assessing the situation and trying to figure out whether Dean is a vampire too. Once his eyes fall to Dean’s machete, though, he loses a bit of his edge, eyeing Dean with suspicion instead of outright hostility.

“Who are you?” he asks, his voice carrying across the distance between them in a perfect rumble of gravel and whiskey.

 _Goddamn_.

Dean sheathes his machete and raises his hands to show he means no harm, fixing the stranger with his best grin.

“I’m Dean Winchester,” he says, then gestures to the bodies strewn at the other hunter’s feet, blood soaking into the green of the field. “Want a hand burnin’ those?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Show some love to the original [here](https://saltnhalo.tumblr.com/post/628063707281440768/song-prompt-crimson-and-clover-by-tommy-james)!


	22. TSA agent Cas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean embarrasses himself in front of a very hot TSA agent.

Dean fucking hates flying.

It takes forever, airports are Earth’s best approximation of what Hell must be, and hurtling through the sky in a giant tin can is the least relaxing way to travel in all of human history.

So, safe to say that when Dean arrives at the airport ahead of his flight to London to visit Sam, he’s feeling more than a little wound up. It’s been forever since the last time he flew, but there’s no way that he’s going to miss visiting Sam at Oxford (fucking _Oxford_ , how smart is his baby brother?) while he’s studying there, so here he is. Barely functioning after an hour’s sleep and three cups of coffee, feeling so tense that he’s one small disaster away from vibrating out of existence.

Fuck his life.

The TSA line is its own special kind of torture, stretching as far as he can see. Dean entertains himself by listening to music as he slowly shuffles forward, until finally, he reaches the front of the line.

It takes Dean a second to get his bearings, and by that point, a grumpy-looking TSA agent is already directing him forwards, towards a booth and a second agent.

At least the second agent is attractive, watching him with a piercing blue gaze as he approaches. Dark hair, stubble, strong jaw… Dean could get on board with flying more often if it means he gets to meet hot guys like this one.

He pulls his earbuds out as he steps up to the booth, but the man is already talking as he gestures to the scanner in front of him, and it takes Dean’s brain a delayed few seconds to piece together his words.

“Sir, please scan your face down.”

For a second, Dean just blinks at the man, who raises an eyebrow and stares him down impassively. _Weird_ , Dean thinks to himself. _I guess technology has gotten more advanced since I last flew._

He takes one more second to double-check the words his brain had registered, then mentally shrugs, bends down, and presses his face against the scanner.

For a few seconds, there’s nothing but silence—and then Dean hears the machine give a negative-sounding beep, along with a quiet and barely-suppressed snort of laughter.

When Dean straightens up again, confused, the TSA agent has his lips pressed together to try and stifle his laughter, but his amusement is clear in the crinkles around his eyes.

“What I said, sir,” he repeats, enunciating more clearly this time, “is to please scan your _license_ face down.”

Well, fuck.

Cheeks burning with pure mortification, Dean pulls out his wallet and slides his license onto the scanner, which responds with a much more positive beep. “Sorry about that,” he mutters quietly, unable to even look the cute TSA agent in the eyes, fixing his gaze instead on the name badge that reads _Novak_. This is a nightmare that Dean is going to be thinking about for years to come, he knows it.

But Novak just shrugs, and Dean catches the white of his smile in the corner of his vision. “Don’t be. It’s a nice face, and you’ve given me a good story to tell. It was nice to meet you, Mr. Winchester.”

Surprised, Dean lifts his gaze to meet Novak’s eyes, seeing nothing but gentle amusement and sincerity in them. He’s still hoping that a conveniently-placed hole in the ground will swallow him up, but he’s at least polite enough to say, “You too,” then collect his license and the last shreds of his dignity and keep moving.

Dean can feel Novak’s gaze on his back as he walks away, and he wonders if the spark of interest he’d seen in those blue eyes had just been wishful thinking. It might be a little while before he can show his face here again after his embarrassing _faux pas_ , but…

Flying more often might be worth it if it means he gets to see Novak again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Show some love to the original [here](https://saltnhalo.tumblr.com/post/628158344774959104/happy-birthday-tobythewise-3-dean-fucking)!


	23. 100 word drabbles 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A collection of drabbles written for prompts on the [Profound Bond discord server](https://discord.gg/profoundbond) (and, occasionally, just because I felt like it).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1: Shiver. 2: Nutcracker. 3: Gift. 4: Beginnings. 5: Butterfly. 6: Gamenight. 7: Builders 8: Prayer. 9: Sacrilege. 10: Faith. 11: Ceremony. 12: Blessing. 13: Icon. 14: Graveyard. 15: Cross. 16: Bounce. 17: Safety. 18: Switch. 19: Screw. 20: Rope. 21: Kiss. 22: Whoopsie-gaysie. 23: Force. 24. Throb. 25: Bottom. 26: Hammer. 27: Abandoned. 28: Potato. 29: Confidence. 30: Fireworks.

1.

Dean sits out the front of the bunker.

He sits there in the sun, the wind, the cold. He sits there until he starts to shiver, pulling his coat tighter around his shoulders. Still, he watches. Waits. _Hopes_.

That’s where Sam finds him—camped out on that rickety folding chair as the first flakes of snow start to fall.

“Dean,” he says, then again when he doesn’t respond. “ _Dean_.”

Dean barely moves, just turns his head in Sam’s direction. His eyes are red-rimmed, but his gaze doesn’t leave the path.

“Come inside,” Sam pleads. “He’s not coming home. Not tonight.”

2.

When Sam drags him along to the ballet, Dean is not impressed.

He’s never been a fan of dancing, let alone when it involves people prancing around in tights, but Sam won tickets to see the _Nutcracker_ or what-the-fuck-ever. Dean is definitely planning to feign sickness at half time (whatever the theatre equivalent is)…

Until one of the most stunning men Dean has ever seen dances onto the stage. With his stunning body and piercing blue eyes, Dean can’t stop watching him.

The dancer’s name is Castiel—and Dean ends up getting his autograph and a date after the show.

3.

“Cas? I, uh… I got you something.”

Castiel looks up from his breakfast, squinting at Dean. “It’s eight in the morning,” he grumbles. “You can’t wait until after coffee?”

Dean sets the coffee down in front of his grumpy boyfriend and waits for him to notice. The moment he does is clear—Cas’s face lights up, and his frown disappears.

The mug is plain white, decorated by cartoon bees and the words ‘Bee Happy.’ Dean had picked it up at a garage sale, and it’s the perfect gift for Cas.

“Oh, Dean,” Castiel breathes, grinning happily. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

4.

When the clock ticks over, Dean is full of alcohol and bad decisions.

And, it seems, one of those bad decisions involves pulling Cas in by the tie and giving him a New Year’s kiss.

It’s spontaneous and wonderful (to Dean’s drunk mind, anyway), but it’s only once they pull apart that he realizes what he’s done. He’s about to apologize—

But before he can say it, Cas leans forward and kisses him one more time.

When they separate, Dean is left breathless and grinning. “Why didn’t we do that before?”

Cas just smiles and shrugs.

“Hindsight is twenty-twenty, Dean.”

5.

Castiel has had a hand in creating many things.

He’s put the wings on butterflies, given dolphins their tails, formed the many tentacles on a jellyfish and every feather on a bird’s wings. It’s always an incredible feeling, knowing what he has done and the ways in which he is aiding the natural progression that he has watched on Earth for so long. He’s so _proud_ , looking down and seeing all his handiwork.

But everything he has ever created pales in comparison to the pride he feels when he pulls Dean Winchester from Hell and remakes him, piece by piece.

6.

Game night is Dean’s favourite nights of the week.

It means that he and Cas get to see their friends, to find out what everyone’s been up to and spend the evening drinking and yelling at each other whenever a game of ‘Sorry’ goes wrong.

Tonight, Cas is kicking everyone’s ass at Monopoly. He must own half the properties on the board, and Dean groans as he moves the top hat to a property he knows belongs to Cas.

“Unlucky, Dean,” Cas teases, his voice smug.

Dean just flips him off across the table as he counts out his payment.

7.

The builders are going to be the death of Castiel.

They’re all fit and attractive, often around working on the house next door, but there’s one that always catches Cas’s eye. He has green eyes and freckles and always seems like he’s showing off whenever Castiel is around.

He does him best to ignore it, but it’s… _hard_.

Today is hot, and half the builders are shirtless. Green-eyes is hanging out by the fence, where Castiel is tending to his vegetable patch.

“Nice eggplants,” Green-eyes calls, and Castiel feels his cheeks heat at the teasing tone.

God, he’s so _fucked_.

8\. 

Dean got into the habit, a long time ago, of praying to Castiel.

For big things, or little things, or whenever he just needs to get something off his chest, he gets down on his knees and prays. It’s cathartic, and a lot of the time, he forgets that Cas is actually _listening_ to him.

So when he kneels at the end of his bed one night and pours his heart out about the one person in his life he couldn’t live without…

The knock on his bedroom door comes barely a minute later, followed by a single word.

“ _Yes_.”

9.

Castiel stands at the entrance to his church, hands clasped in front of his chest, gaze upturned to the ceiling.

It feels so wrong, so sacrilegious, to be doing this here, but he knows he has no other choice. This is the only option—the only place Dean will accept.

Complete desecration, in every way imaginable.

All it takes is a thought, and he feels the atmosphere shift. Slowly, he lowers his gaze.

Dean stands in front of him, lips curled into a half-smirk. He’s beautiful. Addictive.

Green eyes flicker to black.

“ _Castiel_. Can’t stay away, huh?”

_God help him_.

10.

Castiel has never been a man of faith.

He prefers to put his trust in his own skill: the bite of salt and the sharpness of steel. He is the only person he can ever trust, and God can go get fucked—if he exists.

So for a long time, he doesn’t believe. Doesn’t think about it.

And then he’s pulled out of Hell by a creature that shatters his eardrums. A creature impervious to steel and salt and every weapon Castiel possesses. A creature powerful enough to fight the armies of Hell.

An angel.

And his name is _Dean_.

11.

It’s weird, standing on ceremony.

Dean salutes as the royal family pass by, every button on his uniform shining. First come the king and queen, and then the crown prince—but Dean has eyes for someone else entirely.

Following behind in the royal procession is Prince Castiel, who looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here. He looks good (he _always_ does), but also… bored.

Until he sees Dean.

His face lights up, and when he smiles, Dean can’t help but mirror it. _I’ll see you later_ , they mouth at each other.

A prince and a palace guard? Scandalous indeed.

12.

“Mr. Novak, sir? I’ve come to ask for your blessing.”

Chuck raises his eyebrows, looking over the top of his newspaper to the young man standing in the parlor doorway. John Winchester’s boy, if he recalls correctly. The one who went to school with Castiel.

“Welcome, Dean,” he says, gesturing to the empty chair opposite him. “I suppose you’ve come to ask for Anna’s hand in marriage?”

Dean shifts on his feet, but keeps his head held high despite his nerves.

“No, sir,” he says, taking Chuck by surprise. His voice trembles, but barely. “I’ve come to ask for Cas’s.”

13.

The last to be created, Castiel has been doted upon by his brothers and sisters his entire life. He has been told that he is special, an icon, everything that an angel should embody. That he is the best of them.

But something about Heaven has never felt quite right, and he never realised the extent of it until he finally left.

He’d snuck into the rescue team, blending in amongst the others. His first trip, and to Hell, no less.

It was only meant to be a joyride, new experience...

Until he ended up saving the Righteous Man.

14\. 

The graveyard is a quiet place, where the mist hangs on the trees like a shroud and any noise, any birdsong or footfall, is swallowed up within seconds.

Amongst the white, the shape of a man is barely visible, dressed in jeans and a leather jacket with the collar turned up against the cold. His shoulders are hunched, and he looks as though he bears the weight of the world upon them.

When the man finds what he is looking for, he stands perfectly still beside it, his head bowed, and he does not move for a very long time.

15.

Dean had grown up fighting, with a right cross that could make any man see stars, but beating Cas?

It’s impossible.

They’re training together again today, wrapped hands guarding their faces as they each try to gain an advantage. Dean feints in close, but Castiel sidesteps it neatly.

In the next second, Cas is grappling him, hooking his leg behind Dean’s and using his own body weight to bring him to the floor. Dean hits the mat with a _thud_ , groaning as Cas’s weight settles firmly over his hips.

Castiel just grins down at him.

“Better luck next time, love.”

16.

Dean groans as Castiel’s hands press against the sore muscles of his shoulder.

He doesn’t bounce quite like he used to back when he was young. With every hunt, he swear his injuries hit him just a little bit harder.

“Ow, fuck, Cas,” he mutters under his breath, then mouths _That’s how you know it’s working_ perfectly in time with Castiel’s response, rolling his eyes fondly.

They’ve been together for way too long, if Dean can tell exactly what he’s going to say before he says it.

Still, terrible physiotherapist skills or not… he wouldn’t trade Cas for the world.

17.

For a long time in his life, Dean had never known the meaning of ‘safety.’ Even now, it’s taking him time to get used to it—because for once, he doesn’t have to worry about monsters, or the police, or where they’re going to stay and how they’re going to get money.

No, now he gets to spend his days in the bunker with his family. He doesn’t have to hunt, or scam, and now he’s starting to realise what he’s been missing.

Because this? Living with Sam, finally confessing his feelings to Cas?

This is safety.

This is _living_.

18.

“And here, wait for it… ‘I am not left-handed either,’ and he switches too! Fuck, Cas, isn’t it so badass?”

Once again, Dean seems to have taken it upon himself to prove that he knows every single line from The Princess Bride. It’s both amusing and endearing, and Castiel can’t help but smile at the way Dean looks expectantly up at him from where he’s sprawled across the couch and Castiel’s lap.

“Yes, Dean. It’s very badass. Bur remind me again why we’re watching this when you could already recite the whole script?”

“Alright, smartass. Just watch the movie, okay?”

19.

Castiel knocks on the bedroom door, then rests his forehead against the wood. “Dean?” he calls gently.

“Screw you,” comes the grouchy response from within.

_I probably shouldn’t have pissed him off._

“Are you really not going to come out?”

The door cracks open, barely an inch, and Dean glares through it. “I’ll come out when you stop being an asshole,” he points out. “Fuck you and all your stations.”

And with that, he shoves the door closed again. Castiel sighs, shaking his head in fond exasperation.

He should have known that playing Monopoly with Dean would be a mistake.

20.

Dean inhales, a breath that hitches in his chest and jitters against his ribs, and then exhales again.

The rope is tight around his wrists, his knees pressed into the soft carpet beneath him. He’s not supposed to move, so all he can focus on is the in and out of his own breathing.

Eight minutes pass before the bedroom door creaks open once again.

The footsteps are near-silent against the carpet, but when Cas’s fingertips trail over his bare skin, Dean feels all his muscles relax, leaning gently into each touch.

“Good boy,” Cas murmurs, and Dean’s heart _sings_.

21.

Dean is fourteen when he first kisses a girl.

It’s soft. Gentle. He enjoys it, because kissing is not like fighting, or like hunting.

~

Dean is nineteen when he first kisses a boy.

The boy is different—he tastes like cigarettes, and he grins as he presses Dean back against the wall. For all that Dean has fantasised about this, it is not like anything he has imagined.

He doesn’t make a habit of it, his father’s words always ringing in his head. For years, he sticks to girls.

~

Dean is thirty when he first kisses an angel.

22.

“Sam, ‘whoopsiegaysie’ is not even a word. That shit should be hyphenated, anyway, nerd.”

Sam just shrugs and pokes his last tile straight on the Scrabble board. “It should be, yes, but I stand by it.” There’s a smile at the edge of his lips.

Dean takes the bait.

“What does it even mean, anyway?”

The smile grows into a grin.

“Whoopsie-gaysie? It’s for when someone who thought they were straight falls in love with their best friend. Sound familiar?”

Dean looks down at the ring on his left hand, then scowls exasperatedly at Sam. “Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

The word stays.

23.

Dean slices through the ranks of stormtroopers effortlessly, wielding his lightsaber like an extension of his arm. The Empire has lost this battle, and Dean watches, satisfied, as they turn and flee from him.

But one stormtrooper remains, standing motionless in middle of the battlefield.

Watching him.

Dean clenches his teeth and raises his hand, channelling the Force—

And then the stormtrooper pulls off his helmet, and Dean freezes in shock, his grip on the Force ebbing away.

_Years spent growing up together. Adventures, shared history, young love. A first kiss, out in the deserts of Tattooine_.

“ _Cas?_ ”

“Hello, Dean.”

24.

When Dean wakes, it’s to the bite of rope around his wrists and a throbbing in his skull. The demon sitting opposite him, picking idly at its nails with a knife, perks up.

“Welcome back,” it gloats with a smirk. “We were hoping to find the angel, but we’ll settle for you instead.”

Dean watches it for a moment, then leans back in his chair and grins, dark and amused.

“Oh, you’ll get the angel, alright,” he says. His knowing tone makes the demon pale. “Good luck.”

No-one ever learns that pissing Cas off will _always_ end badly for them.

25.

“He’s here.”

Inias looks past Castiel with a grin, and Castiel feels nerves churn in his stomach. _Stupid bet, stupid Inias, stupid Dean Winchester_ , he thinks, finishing his drink and placing the bottom of his cup down more forcefully than he’d intended to.

“I can’t do this,” he tells Inias, turning to look across the partying crowd to where Dean Winchester has just walked in, all handsome face and charming smile.

“Sure you can.” Inias pats him on the shoulder. “Go ask him out, Cas. You’ll thank me later.”

~

Castiel _really_ hates having to admit that Inias was right.

26.

Castiel’s new neighbour is an assbutt.

Ever since moving in, they’ve made a terrible racket next door, often just _yards_ away from his recording studio. Not even industrial soundproofing can keep it out completely.

As if on cue, the hammering starts up again. Castiel stops his audiobook recording, slams his headphones down on the desk, and makes his way outside.

“Could you at least _try_ to—"

He makes eye contact with his neighbour over the fence and stops in his tracks.

The man is tall, handsome, all green eyes and freckles and a sheepish smile.

_Well. This changes things_.

27.

Years later, they go back to that old, abandoned barn.

Surprisingly, it’s still standing—a large part of Dean had been expecting it to have fallen apart by now, but like that single impossible moment, it has somehow defied all the odds.

He pushes open one door, Cas the other, and together, they step inside.

The sigils are still there, painted on the floor and etched into the walls, further dilapidated and warped. It feels bizarre to be back here.

Castiel’s fingers find Dean’s and interlace.

“Strange,” he murmurs. “To think of where we started, and how far we’ve come.”

28.

When Dean is nervous, he cooks.

Currently, he has a casserole simmering on the stove, greens steaming in a pan, crispy potatoes in the oven, and a pie waiting for its turn to be baked. It’s all perfect, but still, he agonises over everything. The clock ticks on, and Dean is checking that his shirt’s still clean for the fifth time tonight when there’s a knock on his front door.

_Fuck_.

Dean straightens up, does one final check, then heads over to meet his guest.

_It’s just a first date. Chill_.

“Hey Cas, it’s good to see you, come in!”

29.

“No—listen, Cas, if you want to blend in, you have to have confidence.”

It seems that there’s more to impersonating an FBI agent than the badge and the uniform. Castiel sighs, then concentrates, aware of Dean’s mounting impatience. He stands up tall, reaching inside himself for the part of him that controlled armies and rebelled against Heaven.

And just like that, he feels it.

“Like this?”

There’s an unreadable look in Dean’s eyes, and he swallows, his eyes flicking over Castiel’s body briefly. When he smiles, it’s tight, some emotion underlying it that Castiel can’t read.

“Yeah. That’s perfect.”

30.

Dean is the one who buys the fireworks, but Sam is easily convinced to help. They find themselves outside the bunker on a sticky summer’s night, and Castiel just watches in fascination as Dean and Sam clear out an area, then set up the first firework, excitement radiating off them.

Dean lights the fuse, then retreats, leaning against Cas with a grin as the rocket shoots upwards.

Castiel holds his breath, and as the firework explodes up above—

It’s like a star, a galaxy, destruction and rebirth all in one.

“Oh,” he says, his voice quiet.

Because now he _understands_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. [Shiver](https://saltnhalo.tumblr.com/post/190034976799/dean-sits-out-the-front-of-the-bunker-he-sits). 2. [Nutcracker](https://saltnhalo.tumblr.com/post/190058125069/when-sam-drags-him-along-to-the-ballet-dean-is). 3. [Gift](http://saltnhalo.tumblr.com). 4. [Beginnings](https://saltnhalo.tumblr.com/post/190120042279/when-the-clock-ticks-over-dean-is-full-of-alcohol). 5. [Butterfly](https://saltnhalo.tumblr.com/post/190285032179/castiel-has-had-a-hand-in-creating-many-things). 6. [Gamenight](https://saltnhalo.tumblr.com/post/190312283214/for-dmsilvisart-game-night-is-deans-favourite). 7. [Builders](https://saltnhalo.tumblr.com/post/190323466774/for-firefly124-writing-the-builders-are-going-to).


	24. 100 word drabbles 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A collection of drabbles written for prompts on the [Profound Bond discord server](https://discord.gg/profoundbond) (and, occasionally, just because I felt like it).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1: Adventure. 2: Doubt.

1.

Castiel hears the voice as he’s running past.

“Adventure is out there!”

He stops, holding onto the string of his balloon, and looks over at the old, boarded-up house. The weathervane is turning wildly, and he can still hear the voice. It sounds young, like his.

Castiel ventures in, squeezing past the door that reads _Spirit of Adventure_ and creeping down the hallway. The voice is getting louder, and as he turns the corner, he sees the boy.

He’s freckled, with green eyes, enthusiastically steering his imaginary ship as he shouts directions.

 _Oh_.

Finally, Castiel has found someone like him.

2.

After all that they’ve been through, it should only be fair that they’ve earned themselves a quiet, hassle-free retirement. Still, Dean has his doubts.

Dean, Sam, and Cas stay in the bunker, occasionally helping out other (younger) hunters, but for the most part, Team Free Will keep to themselves. They’ve seen it all, and now it’s their turn to rest.

And, surprisingly, rest they do. Trouble doesn’t find them, as it so often has.

Instead, they get to live peaceful lives—the lives that any normal person would get to live. Together. _Happy_.

For once, the universe has been kind.


	25. 2.5k giveaway drabbles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A collection of personalised drabbles that I wrote for people to celebrate a follower milestone.

1.

It’s a well-known fact that Dean will take any excuse to dress up.

For today’s hunt, he and Cas look like cowboy wannabes, complete with Stetsons. Considering Dean’s love of western movies, Sam is willing to bet that this wasn’t Cas’s idea, but he’s a good sport when it comes to making Dean happy, so he’s going along with it.

“Hold on,” Dean mutters, pausing by the Impala to nudge the brim of Cas’s hat up just a little. “There.” He smiles, quick and bright. “Can’t have the hat hiding your eyes.”

Sam shakes his head fondly. _They’re such dorks_.

2.

“Hey, Winchester!”

Dean looks up from his locker, raising his eyebrows at Gordon. “What?”

“Heard a rumour that you’re taking Castiel Novak to prom.” He and his friends laugh, sharp and mocking. _Hilarious_ , Dean thinks, rolling his eyes. Cas might be a little weird, but honestly, Dean has always been captivated by his blue eyes and awkward sense of humour.

“Well, I hadn’t asked him yet,” he muses, closing his locker, “but now that you mention it, that’s a good idea. Thanks, Gordon!”

Gordon splutters, his joke having backfired, while Dean smirks to himself and heads off to find Cas.

3.

The first time that Cas goes into moult, it’s bit of a shock.

The feathers appear in their bed first—some of them small and fluffy, but most of them Cas’s sleek black flight feathers—and then start to spread throughout the bunker. Most of them go into the trash, because Cas will grow more, but Dean can tell that he’s a little self-conscious about having his wings physically materialised.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs to Cas one night, when they’re curled up in bed. “Your feathers will come back. Besides, no matter what, I’ll still love you and your wings.”

4.

There are few things on earth that are better than burgers.

Castiel has fond memories associated with them, after all. Lunches spent at small-town diners, sitting in a booth across from Dean. Fast food dinners, eating in the passenger seat of the Impala during a hunt. Dean teaching him to cook for the first time, fingers wrapped around Castiel’s as they guide the spatula over the grill. His and Dean’s first proper date, going to a nice restaurant before the movies.

…It takes Castiel far too long to realise that it’s probably not the burgers that he’s in love with.

5.

Dean takes it upon himself to introduce Castiel to movies. Every Friday night is movie night, and so they find themselves in Dean’s ‘cave,’ watching what Dean deems to be the ‘classics.’

The first time they do movie night, Castiel is in the armchair, while Dean takes up the couch.

On the fifth night, they’re both on the couch.

The ninth movie night is the first time they properly touch, as Dean tries to hide the fact that he’s crying over the ending of Toy Story 3, and on their sixteenth movie night…

Dean and Castiel share their first kiss.

6.

Recently, Dean has been reteaching himself to play the guitar.

“My mom showed me a little bit, when I was really tiny,” he says to Castiel, as his fingers move over the frets, “and then I did some lessons here and there at school while we moved around, but I never really got to learn properly.”

He’s only been teaching himself for the last few days, following along with videos on the YouTube, but he already sounds wonderful. Watching Dean play, head bowed and hands moving over the guitar…

It’s quickly becoming one of Castiel’s favourite things in the world.

7.

Castiel’s world feels as though it’s been turned upside-down.

For so many millennia, he’s believed that Heaven is good. That they’re doing the right thing, that the purpose he was created for is a just one.

But now… he’s not so sure.

His fellow angels say that it’s because of the humans.

Some angels say that it’s because of one human in particular.

Castiel looks upwards, towards the stars. They provide him no answer, and he knows, somewhere deep down in his being…

The longer he spends with Dean, the closer he gets each day to realising his true purpose.

8.

Dean is thirty years old, and magicless.

It’s embarrassing, being one of the very last people to meet his soulmate, to find that one person in life who is meant to give him purpose and to spark his magic. Even Sam has found his, and while he lost her, his magic remains. But Dean?

Nothing.

He’s gotten used to it, and figured it would happen eventually, one day. He’d just never expected to finally feel his magic in an abandoned barn in the middle of nowhere…

Or that his soulmate would turn out to be an Angel of the Lord.

9.

Castiel has resigned himself to never finding his witch.

Of all the people he’s met, none of them have felt right—too overbearing, too safe, too uncertain, too egotistical, the list is endless. He will be a lone familiar forever, and he’s okay with that.

And then, one fall evening, while he’s cleaning his feathers in the park…

He feels it.

That pull on his magic, one that calls out to him so strongly that he almost falls off his perch. There, across the park—the man with green eyes and a grin brighter than the sun.

That’s Castiel’s witch.

10.

Dean sits astride his motorcycle, collar pulled up to keep out the biting wind, and waits.

Being in the Angels’ territory is dangerous, but Cas had said to meet him here, promised him safety, and so here Dean is. He’s not wearing his Demon jacket—he’s not stupid enough to show his faction alliance, not here—but he still feels like there’s a target painted on his back regardless.

Something moves in the alley ahead. Dean goes tense, his breath stilling.

And then his Angel appears out of the shadows, and Dean feels his heart restart.

“Heya, Cas.”

“Hello, Dean.”

11.

After a long hunt, Castiel’s favourite thing to do is to take a long, hot shower, and then fall into bed.

Of all his human pleasures, being able to properly appreciate his bed is one of his favourites. The covers are so soft, the mattress so wonderfully comfortable, and after a gruelling few days, there’s no better place to relax and unwind.

Dean thumps down onto the mattress next to him, and Castiel grumbles at being disturbed, but shuffles closer anyway. Because being in bed after a hunt with his _husband_ to curl up against?

That, to Castiel, is perfection.

12.

Ever since Dean Winchester had walked into the school with his leather jacket and his steel-sharp smile, it feels like the whole school has been enamoured with him, but Castiel?

He sees the boy who’s already read all their English texts, who tries _so hard_ in Math class, who quietly aces all their Physics tests and slips his returned assignments into his bag without making a fuss. For someone that smart to hide it behind a careful, cocky façade… there is much more to Dean than meets the eye.

Castiel _longs_ to discover who he really is, deep down inside.

13.

Dean and Castiel are in a cabin in the mountains, on the trail of a wendigo, when the snow starts to fall—slowly, at first, then thick and heavy. All they can do is stand by the windows and watch as the Impala disappears under a layer of white.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Dean mutters, and Castiel quietly agrees.

On the bright side, though—the fire is roaring, they have enough food to last them a few days, and out of all the people to be snowed in with, Dean is a pretty good option.

This might not be so bad, after all.

14.

Castiel has always admired Dean’s wings.

Tawny-gold and speckled with white, they put Castiel’s black feathers to shame, and he wishes so badly that he had more impressive plumage to court Dean with. There’s not even any use in trying—no angel would choose someone with black wings. And so courting season comes, and he watches from afar as Dean rejects suitor after suitor.

Castiel is finally plucking up the courage to try his luck when he notices Dean heading in his direction. Suddenly, his nerves hit a new high.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean says with a smile. “Can we talk?”

15.

Dean has always been protective of the Impala.

Castiel knows the rules—driver picks the music, dirt and blood are only allowed on the upholstery in an emergency, things like that. But the unspoken, paramount rule, is that no one drives Baby except for Dean (unless he’s unconscious or otherwise incapacitated).

So when, one day after the two of the have gotten lunch at the local diner, Dean casually tosses Castiel the keys, the surprise is enough to stop him in his tracks.

“What?” Dean asks, a grin on his lips, eyes sparkling. “C’mon, Cas, it’s okay. I trust you.”

16.

They’re halfway through a hunt when Castiel falls.

Dean beheads the vampire he’s fighting, then takes off towards where Cas is lying on the ground, vamp looming over him. “Cas!” he shouts, the single syllable tearing its way out of his chest.

But he’s not close enough. He can only watch in horror as the vampire lunges…

And then Cas’s fingers close around his machete, and he swings it upwards. The vampire’s head rolls across the ground—Dean reaches him seconds later.

“You crazy idiot,” he breathes.

Cas just grins, blood-spattered but _alive_.

“It takes one to know one, Dean.”

17.

Castiel, angel of the Lord, leader of armies who rebelled against Heaven just for humanity…

Has never learned how to ride a bicycle.

Dean takes it upon himself to teach Cas one day, on an afternoon without hunts or leads or any responsibilities at all. At first, Cas struggles a little—the balance of a bike is a hard one to negotiate for the first time, especially in a body much more restrained than his trueform.

After only half an hour, though, Cas gets the hang of it, and his satisfied, elated grin makes all the teaching totally worth it.

18.

The restaurant is fancier than Castiel is used to, and he’s enjoying curiously perusing the menu—but when he looks up, Dean is just staring into the distance.

“Dean?” he asks, watching as he refocuses and smiles tightly. “What do you want to get?”

Dean shakes his head distractedly. “Anything, I don’t care. Whatever you want.”

And that cements Castiel’s suspicions that something is up. He eyes Dean for a moment, then goes back to the menu, the cogs turning in his mind.

When Dean gets down on one knee after dessert and proposes, Castiel is only a little surprised.

19.

The first time Dean discovers Cas’s nesting habit, it’s a surprise.

At first, it’s a few of his shirts that have gone missing—then a scarf, some cushions from Dean’s man cave, and a sweatshirt. Finally, it all comes to a head when the sheets on their bed go missing.

Dean finds the angel in their closet, curled up and half-dozing in a Cas-shaped nest made up of every single thing in the bunker that smells the most like Dean.

Cas slits one eye open, looking guilty, but Dean just smiles.

“Reckon you can make room in there for me?”

20.

Dean can always recognise when Cas is stressed. Papers strewn across their dorm, Cas’s hair a mess, half-drunk mugs of tea and coffee littering the desk…

Yeah, this is definitely one of those times.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Dean murmurs, wrapping his arms around Cas’s shoulders.

Cas just sighs in response, long and heavy, and Dean knows exactly how he feels. Thank fuck his last major assignment had been due last week, and now he can just relax, and help Cas not fall apart.

He presses a kiss to the top of Cas’s head. “Let me know if you need anything, ‘kay?”

21.

Dean is the one who teaches Castiel how to shoot a gun.

Dean is the one who stands behind him, adjusting his position, guiding his arms into the right spot, breath hot in Castiel’s ear. It’s so hard to focus like this, with the knowledge that Dean is so _close_ , and all it would take is a turn of Castiel’s head to have their lips almost brushing.

Dean is the one Castiel thinks about, when he’s alone.

“Flick the safety off,” Dean is murmuring, fingers brushing Castiel’s. They’re so close—and yet, not quite there.

It’s agonising.

“Aim… and fire.”

22.

Castiel finds Dean in the dining room, field trip specimens spread across the table. He leans over Dean’s shoulder, watching as his husband carefully categorises one of the rocks in front of him. “What’s that one?” he asks, even though he knows the answer.

“Gneiss,” Dean says distractedly. Castiel’s lips twitch up in a smile.

“I can see it’s nice, but what is it?”

“No, it—it’s _gneiss_ , Cas. The rock.”

“Yes, it’s nice. Why won’t you tell me the name?”

“ _Gneiss_ , Cas, for fuck’s—"

Finally, it twigs, and Dean glares up at Castiel with fond exasperation.

“You motherfucker.”

23.

Dean and Castiel create their garden from the ground up.

They spend so many hours pulling weeds, breaking up the soil, sweating beneath the sun side by side until the earth is ready. After that, it’s days upon days spent planting seedlings and sowing vegetables, watering and fertilising and everything in between. They’re out there every day, looking after their plants, watching them grow from nothing. Castiel has always wanted a garden, and Dean has always wanted a home, and this is the perfect thing.

It will take years until the garden is _perfect_ , but that’s okay.

They have time.

24.

For as long as he can remember, Dean has loved the ocean.

He’s always felt a pull towards it, only really feeling at home amongst the waves, with the salty seabreeze in his nose and the sand beneath his feet. Sometimes he spends hours in the water, swimming or floating or just looking out, wondering what’s out there.

On his eighteenth birthday, he finds himself heading down at the beach as the moon starts to rise.

There, standing waist-deep in the water as though he’s _waiting_ for Dean, is a boy with dark hair and eyes bluer than the sea.

25.

Dean spends weeks agonising over everything.

The ring (platinum with a band of meteorite), the place (the overlook where they’d shared their first kiss in the front seat of the Impala), the words (Dean has always been _shit_ with speeches, and this one is no less nerve wracking).

He overthinks himself in circles until he’s dizzy with it, and just like that, the day creeps up on him. Their anniversary, and the night Dean plans to propose.

But in the end, none of that matters.

All that matters is Cas, and the way his lips form around the word:

“Yes.”

26.

It’s been the perfect night. All their family and friends are here, everything has gone smoothly, and to top it all off, Cas looks fucking _smoking_ hot in his tux. Dean hasn’t been able to keep his hands off his new husband.

Finally, things are starting to wind down, and it’s just past midnight when the last few guests say goodbye. Dean leads Cas out to the Impala, but can’t resist stealing a few kisses before they leave.

“Ready to go consummate this marriage?” he asks with a grin, and Cas laughs, rich and happy.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

27.

There’s nothing like the relief that accompanies the end of a hunt.

It feels good to finally be able to let their guard down, to uncoil and unwind, count bruises and tend to wounds and just _breathe_. On the harder ones, when they’re shaken and reeling from only just having made it out alive, sometimes they’ll hug each other and hold tight, just for a few moments. Just to make sure the other person is truly okay.

Today is one of those days. Dean’s breath is shaky, his heart hammering against Castiel’s chest.

“You’re okay,” Castiel whispers. “I’ve got you.”

28.

Never in his life has Dean seen so many rainbows.

It’s a little overwhelming, honestly. There are so many people here, all of whom seem so comfortable in their sexuality… and then there’s Dean. Forty-five years old, and only just coming to terms with the fact that _maybe_ he isn’t as straight as he thought.

He watches the parade from the audience, wondering if he deserves to be here, when a hand lands gently on his shoulder.

“Whatever you’re thinking, Dean,” Cas tells him, “don’t. Just enjoy it.”

And so Dean leans against Cas, and just lets himself _be_.

29.

Castiel has always wanted a tattoo. His religious family would never approve, but now that he no longer has to obey them, he’s starting to realise that the world is so much bigger than he’d thought.

He finds himself an artist, books an appointment, and figures out what he would like. When the day comes, he almost doesn’t go—

But when he walks into the studio and meets his artist, who is handsome and talented and charming, he knows he’s done for.

When they meet for dinner later that week, Castiel finds himself with a permanent tattoo and a lifelong love.

30.

In the entirety of his existence, Castiel has never known what it means to be tempted.

And then he met Dean Winchester.

Dean tests him like nothing has before, with his easy charm and dogged loyalty, and the way his smile sets alight something in Castiel’s chest that feels like a hundred hummingbird wings. A human should not be able to elicit this kind—or _any_ kind—of reaction from an angel…

And yet.

 _Please, Father. Give me the strength to resist him_ , he prays.

But he knows, deep down, that he can only resist Dean Winchester for so long.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr [here](http://saltnhalo.tumblr.com), and subscribe to me on ao3 [here](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltnhalo). Also, come join us at the [Profound Bond discord server](https://discord.gg/profoundbond), a home to Destiel fans from all walks of life <3


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